The sound of the water rushing over the rocks grew louder as they moved under the bridge right down to the edge of the water. "Far enough Brady boy." ...eaching around him, she grabbed his crotch."Figures, fucking Brady boy special – mother fucking 5 inch cocktail wiener," she hissed at him. She pulled his briefcase from him and tossed it up higher on the bank. "Fucking fag carrying a purse," she reached around again and squashed his package. "Fucking like a rock you cracker fags get fear boners. The characters exist only in my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead would be coincidental and very creepy.Robin Winter was terribly sad. She knew she had no right to be. She was 27, attractive healthy and had a job as a romance writer that had allowed her to purchase and renovate a cozy farmhouse on 5 acres. But as she drank her second glass of wine and watched a third car head down the little two lane road towards her only neighbors, the Blakes about half-a-mile further. More

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