She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. ‘That’s a loud one. Guns were impossible. ’ ‘Why did you not claim it yourself?’ asked Gerald. Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world. . Her hair is like, white blonde, but trust me, it’s not her natural color. She always left the table when they began to smoke. I don’t want to know. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp.
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