When I came back, she was really in a world of pain—if her heels collapsed, there was painful pressure on her nipples, if she stood up on tippie toe... her breasts relaxed, but her feet hurt. Mercifully, I cut her down.Davis rubbed her nipples, crying slightly, but I had no sympathy. I lifted the South African Police baton and landed it on her shoulders, and gave it to her about eight more times until she asked if I’d like to leave garbage detail and become her private secretary. I only type four. " All thoughts of queer hair dressers and straight hair dressers left her mind."Shit!" My gentle Emily yelled, "Let's go get those mother fuckers!" She dragged Connie along with her and headed straight toward the car wash where my golden trash truck was getting its weekly bath. Emily shoved Connie up through the driver's side door and yelled, "You drive." I don't know how," Connie told her."Move over," Emily told her, "I'll drive."Emily crowded Connie over and started the truck engine. She. More

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