Aunt!" She almost blew it, which freaked her out. She internalized it, but the knot it created met another knot, not emotional though."You're still a ...oman. Aunt Marisol? Are you okay? Mom! Mom!"Luisa rushed up to her adopted son's room. He stayed in his old room for the semi-annual visits, otherwise living in an apartment near Columbia. She knew something bad happened. Luisa never disturbed those moments when his real mother could be close to him."It's nothing," moaned Marisol, looking. By now, her mother should be on her way home, my expert staff having convinced her that Sophie was accepted to go to a camp across the country that specialized in training young actresses. I poured myself a glass of scotch and began to transform my office. I walked to the left side door, where the light switch unhooked to reveal a large set of buttons and switches. One of the perks of being a billionaire, is you can do whatever you want, and create your playground anywhere. I pressed the top. The boy-girl ratio was a pretty much half-half which meant lots of showing off, and lots of pairing off. I'd have said most people were late teens, maybe twenty, but it wasn't a school party. The guys I had brief chats with worked somewhere around town, or on the land. Some claimed to have recognized me from the booze shop, but I couldn't say that I remembered the face of any of them.My radar was definitely on for a score. It had been a while since I'd had sex with a nameless drunken girl, and. He worked a swing shift and was gone each evening between 6 P.M. and 6 A. M. He always waited at the bus stop with his brown bag lunch and read the sports section of the daily paper. He always threw the unread sections of the paper into the trash as he boarded the bus to his place of employment eight miles away.Each morning he arrived on the bus and stopped at the twenty-four hour liquor store half a block from his home where he bought a pint of cheap vodka. He always sat on the steps in front.
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