Maybe this man is a bodyguard for you.’ ‘But why would Eugene hire a guard for me and not tell me about it?’ ‘You have a good point… the onl... other thing that I can think of…’ ‘Yes?’ ‘…Is maybe that Anna…’ she paused. ‘You mean, a spy for Anna? That makes even more sense. I think you may be right, Henriette,’ I could feel myself growing angry. ‘The nerve of her! She still thinks she can run my life! She wants nothing to do with me, until it comes down to my money…’ ‘Ah, Olivia… I’m sure that. The poem started narrow in between her breasts, barely scraping their shape, leaving them two angelic silences, punctuated by nipples. As for the poem, easily smeared, it crawled and crawled up the valley. It conquered the plains open under her throat. Then, the offensive! A quick cavalcade around made it a collar of words, a black river that matched any a jeweller.It kept climbing. The best poem I had ever written. In laces swirling around her neck, reaching and conquering her chin and cheeks.. More

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