You wantto grab a coffee and tell me about your folks and why you left them. Wecan share stories and figure out whose are worse."I grinned humourlessl.... From a certain perspective my 'folks' were theFBI super assassin program and Doc OcK. You could say I had some parentalissues. "Prepare to be defeated..."He smiled but there was no amusementthere. I suddenly sensed that I might not have a monopoly on bad luck."Or perhaps we can talk about our next mural," I suggested hopefully."Awesomesauce.. He rolled her back into the space, quickly covering her up to the chin where he noticed the sexy wattle of her neck, wanting to bury his face into it.“Goddammit, what the fuck’s wrong with me,” he groaned to himself.He stood back, looking at her slowly wake up, wanting to run, wanting to stay. He stayed as she blinked her eyes and saw him there. He smiled a very weak smile. “Oh my GOD, Rob!” she cried out, clutching the blanket to her chin and up and over her face, which was deep crimson in. I could hear it.“If you are not wet, if you lie to me, there will be hell to pay you little whore” and I gave her the crop again, this time across the back. I ran my left hand across Linda’s round ass which was rapidly turning red. Her skin was smooth and soft; the flesh was firm beneath my fingers. My hand roamed both ass cheeks, her lower back, and the tops of her thighs, feeling the texture of her skin – smooth, velvety with no scars, no moles, no imperfections. Linda did have a lovely. Three or four days had gone by, and all was going well. We were able to rent separate rooms at night, and our relationship was pleasant and business-like.But then we reached Pouce Coupe in British Columbia. We probably could (should) have gone on to Dawson Creek where the Alcan Highway really begins (Mile 0), but it gets dark early in the fall that far north, and I was dead tired. You must remember that in the fall of 1949, the road ended for all practical purposes at Edmonton. The little towns.