She remembered Jack. He had touched her. Fingers, gently, tracing letters on her bare skin. His eyes, so full of sorrow. She remembered that first kis..., standing under the night sky. Raising herself to place her lips on his, hands gently touching his bare arm...Sam, rarely, brought herself to completion. It wasn't about that. Wasn't about the release. Jack had been the first, the only, to take her there, to that place where love and pleasure and beauty reside. She wanted him again. Wanted the. I knew which hotel Dean was staying in and that he was staying over on Saturday night too so I could go straight there and fuck his brains out in his hotel room! 40 minutes later I was standing in front of the bedroom mirror applying a final coat of red lipstick. I stepped back and admired my ‘power secretary’ look of white translucent shirt, grey pencil skirt, 9 inch red elastic belt with a large silver clasp that acted like a waspie (pinching in my stomach and pushing up my bust), black. More

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