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I decided to check out his car knowing that he was occupied on the other side of the house. I recorded his license plate number, his registration number and then I decided to look in his glove compartment. That was a mistake. His car alarm went off and I once again scrambled to find cover. That time when he came out of my house I saw his face…it was my own father.I didn’t even know he was back in town let alone that he had a new car. About a year ago he retired, he left Mom, and he disappeared to ‘find himself.’ Well instead he found my wife. I wondered if she was the reason that he left Mom in the first place.I came home at my usual time to find my wife in a nice bubble bath with candles burning, soft music playing, and a half empty wine bottle sitting next to her.She looked up as I walked in and said, “Want to join me?”I said no and started to walk out when she asked, “Would you like to take some nude pictures of me?”I asked what she had in mind and she replied, “How about here in. "Cobra wasn't smiling. She stared right at Pete and her gaze never wavered. "Sasha," she said calmly, "take off all your clothes." Yes, Ma'am," the girl said, closing her eyes and swallowing nervously. Pete watched in amazement as the pretty brunette pulled off her top exposing a pair of smallish but lovely, pert breasts. Then, she slid out of her shorts and panties and stood there, naked, head down, blushing heavily.Pete's mouth was open silently when Cobra, without a word, pointed to the floor at her feet and clicked her fingers. Sasha instantly walked to Cobra and went to her knees in front of her."Do you believe me now, Mr. Journalist?" Cobra said.Pete closed his mouth and swallowed. "How... what... ?" Sasha here challenged me one day, when she was new to the society. She had won her first two fights, and was feeling pretty damned good about herself. The problem was, the brash little brat ran her mouth all over the society, telling people I wasn't as tough as everyone thought, and.
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He took a step, limping, a bit confused. Now what are you doing, said his brain, refusing to locomote, urging flight."We'd better get this water shut off," the teacher said calmly, surprising himself and ignoring his recalcitrant leg and turbulent guts. He took a few steps toward the boy, dragging his foot, watching the gun, surprised it was so big. Three-fifty-seven said his brain, magnum was the word for it. Where did that come from, magnum? Odd word. Champagne? "Somebody might slip. Bell's going to ring."The boy put the muzzle of the pistol in his mouth and backed up to lean against the tiled wall, eyes closed. The teacher took two more steps and held out the open package of paper. "Here, Michael, hold this," he said. "Please."He pushed it against the boy's right forearm, the one holding the gun, and on his thin chest. My damn knee is trying to buckle. He braced his leg against the drinking fountain, still pushing the pack of paper at the boy. Nuisance, stupid leg, always.

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