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The Mahler played. You poured us scotch and we sat on your blue sofa sipping the scotch from small glasses. You said your son had visited with his wife. Skinny ***** Dark haired. Tongue like a viper. You seemed unimpressed with his choice. You lifted the glass level with your eyes. "They call it amber nectar" you said. I sipped mine. Mahler's second movement ended. You gulped down your scotch. "Here or on the bed?" you said. I drained my glass. "Bed is best" I said. You eyed me. "Word is you have eyes on the temporary nurse" you said casually. "There is always gossip" I said "she's not my type." You raised an eyebrow. But you knew she might be somehow.
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Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
Intution of a Female Kind 1974
The Mahler played. You poured us scotch and we sat on your blue sofa sipping the scotch from small glasses. You said your son had visited with his wife. Skinny ***** Dark haired. Tongue like a viper. You seemed unimpressed with his choice. You lifted the glass level with your eyes. "They call it amber nectar" you said. I sipped mine. Mahler's second movement ended. You gulped down your scotch. "Here or on the bed?" you said. I drained my glass. "Bed is best" I said. You eyed me. "Word is you have eyes on the temporary nurse" you said casually. "There is always gossip" I said "she's not my type." You raised an eyebrow. But you knew she might be somehow.
TerryCollett
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Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
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