He threw on a pair of jeans and strolled out the front door, sitting down next to her on the swing. ‘Good book?’ he asked. ‘It is.’ she said,...‘did you get finished?’ ‘For today, he said, Rain’s coming soon.’ The end of his sentence capped with the distant rumble of a summer storm still some 10 miles west of the farm. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to him. She nestled into his arms, her head laying on his shoulder as he gently rocked the swing back and forth, its chains making. Abdul Nour evidently preferred his females at a disadvantage when interviewed. No doubt the long wait in the vacant luxury and the incongruity of their own condition compared to what they saw around was conducive to a softening up of feminine fortitude. Corey cringed in misery at thought of a man seated and regarding her across the polished surface of the desk.Abdul Nour did not match his office. Probably he rarely used it. He was not as modern, he was not as polished, he was not as clean. He. More

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