“I’m supposed to brag to my friends that my ugly, balding little husband is a fucking cleaner?”“It’s good work!”“You’re just a laboure...!”“Anyone who works is a labourer, when you actually think about it. There’s nothing wrong with working. Maybe you should try it sometime.”Her sneer matched that of the jerk. “My father would never see me having to work, and I have no intention of becoming a wage-slave.“You might have to after the divorce,” I suggested.“There isn’t going to be a divorce.” Her. Stacybegan to cover the evidence. When she was done she picked up her handbagfrom Mikes coffee table, Locked the front door and head out his window,Jumped across the balcony to her house and walked inside her kitchen.She logged online and began to chat with her new friends one invitedStacy to a party one of Stacy's ex was throwing his name was Blake, sheagreed to go beginning to get read, first was the shower, Stacy strippedout of her mini skirt and top and looked in the mirror "wowie! You. More

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