"Are you working?" he snapped at me, amidst telephone-static. I opened to the last page of the report: page 837. "I'm already on page: 837." "Not funn...! They'll be sending database updates all weekend, so pay attention to every detail!" I perfunctorily scanned his computer screen, filled with columns of boring numbers. "Don't call me, back: I'll call you, when I have a reccomendation to show you." I hung up, grabbed the bourbon bottle, and went to the spa, where I took a long frothy drunken. “Yeah, you poor old guy, getting fucked to death by his wife, daughters, and half the neighborhood. How will you survive?” Pamela joked a bit, while still making it clear that she wasn’t ridiculing him with several ardent kisses to his lips.“Haha!” Miles protested, not lasting long before his pregnant MILF of a wife got his woody at least a little stiff.“Oh, did I do that?” Pamela giggled while making out with her husband, “Glad to know that you still want a trip to Cougarville, population. More

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