‘ I wish that I had the ambition and guts to put myself out there like you do.’ With a slight grin on her face, Julie said, ‘You think I am the...one with guts. I write fiction . I am not the brave one. You write poetry about real life and your real feelings. You are most definitely the brave one.’ ‘ I am glad someone thinks that I’m brave. There are times that when I feel like one of the biggest cowards on this planet or any other one for that matter. It’s like I’m hiding behind my poetry and. You softly blow against my clit and my legs start to tremble, as it feels so good. Just as I think my legs are going to give way you stand up, as you keep hold of my arms behind my back you gently lead me out of the lift. I try to shimmer my dress down but you make sure it stays up around my waist. I can feel the cool air on my lower body as you walk me down a carpeted corridor, and I don’t know if anyone can see. As we walk further down the corridor your hand moves lower and lower, so that by. King Dreus was calling for me. Well, wallowing in self-pity and waiting to die were hardly the best ways to live out my last moments. I would die doing what I loved. I walked over to the mirror, not bothering to move Eric out of the shot, and I palmed the glass. “Albert.” I smirked.“Your… Highness?” He asked, his eyes going wide, “Is that…?” “We broke up.” I said, “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?” “Do I hear… Your Highness, is there a battle happening over there?”“Oh, you didn’t know?” I. I pulled on a pair of cut-off jeans andgrabbed the old pump shotgun that had served me so wellin Vietnam from under my bed and crept downstairs tocheck. My Ranger training came into play, and I movedsoundlessly, down the stairs and into the living room. A pair of vague shadowy figures were searching throughthe cabinet that housed my collection of antiquesilver. I announced my presence in a sudden andintimidating manner. I merely pumped the action of theshotgun, then moved to the right.