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That Meeting In Chicago
Post #1
Conference finally over, I'm in the lounge enjoying an old whiskey. Back against the bar, I watch Mr. Sharp Suit preach the Gospel of Me to circled kaçak iddaa sycophants.She drapes herself on the stool beside me."You! Double G, single kaçak bahis T," she commands, wagging a perfect red talon at the barman.Drink tasted, illegal bahis she returns my look with interest, just as ass-licking laughter erupts."Such a fucking buffoon," she groans."Boss or husband?""Latter, more's the pity."I stand and palm her breast, feeling its nipple reaching out hard."My suite.*Rescue the evening for us both. He'll never notice."
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