“I like how the hem just barely covers her crotch,” says one fellow, licking his lips unconsciously. “That’s very provocative.” “Yes, woul... you mind lifting your arms above your head, dear?” commands Witherspoon gazing at your woman’s bush expectantly. “Um…but that…” she stammers, as Witherspoon just waits patiently with raised eyebrows. She can’t match his stare and finally concedes. “Well, ok,” she mumbles, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She touches her lovely, bare thighs again. . Ally glanced at her delicate gold link watch. Two days, three hours, and twenty six minutes, she calculated with a grin.Yep, Ally and Ben were going to travel Europe together for six blissful weeks before returning to the United States, where they'd pack up the contents of their modest apartment and head for graduate school. The pair had decided that the Columbia School of Journalism was the perfect choice for them because "newspapers were less fickle than book publishers" Ally routinely. ”“Ronny, if you want to stop getting visits from guys like me, you should get out of this shit entirely. Drop the skinhead bullshit, stop stealing shit, and go to a trade school or you’re going to end up dead.”“Yeah, man ... yeah,” he said, looking relieved as Taylor and Whitaker started backing out of the house.The bleeding man just sat, glaring daggers at them. Taylor kept his weapon out until he got to the car and was backing along the driveway. Whitaker was on the phone when they turned out. He walked to the glass doors of beautiful suite of rooms and asked for Jessica Hill. He paused before saying anything more to the receptionist.He was planning to sit in the waiting room for a little bit. It was only fair. He looked at the art work on the walls, and thumbed through an industry magazine."A little late aren't you?" a soft voice drawled."Would you believe I forgot to adjust for the time... zone?" Luke finished on a flat note looking up. It was her. This was Jessica Hill. His.
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