." She thought, God, how fucked up and weird is that?! Congratulating her for marrying the man I love!"Thank you!" But is that the life for me?! I don...t know! I just don't know! You're right that in a way this is actually a big improvement. Obviously, it would be easier to live with being called a slave-wife than just a slave. But a slave-wife is still a slave! And in some ways, it's even WORSE! With the sex-slave talk, at least I can pretend that it's just talk, just a temporary thing, like. “This is it boys.” The coach’s voice announced as they entered the room. “I told you I’d make good!”“That’s one of their cheerleaders?” one person asked dubiously. Tegan couldn’t help but concur.“Yeah, I think I recognise her. That’s Becky isn’t it? Morris’ girl?” Countered another. There was a general murmur of agreement, and apparent malice towards ‘Morris’, whoever that was.“Well she’s all yours, just try and get done before midnight so she ain’t missed.” The coach said guardedly. Tegan. His family had a house in the small town they were from, and his dad's sister, Maria, kept the place up, living on the lower floor. Richard's family went every two years for part of the summer.Tonia was nineteen. She was a firecracker, not afraid of being herself in a small town. She was the kind of girl who would make the old ladies in black sitting on the benches in the piazza shake their heads at her.The first time Richard saw her, he was drinking pear flavored vodkas with some friends at. The jugs could now be used to cook in and store liquids in. Guess how many lifetimes it would take me to learn to do that, hmmm.”Lobo stared at the human as if he were fascinated with what Morales was saying.“I have plenty of red clay and sand down by the stream. And, I saw a bank of light gray clay near where we fish. I don’t know enough to have the slightest idea whether either will work or not, but I need something to store things in.“Then I watched a video where this guy showed how he made.