The story, was before meMature

Resubmersed her self into the water. The chill caused her teeth to chatter and her nerves to be on end. How it stung/

      She was brand spanking new, she was like a baby in search of milk, and her milk was a story.  This was her story; it had her name all over it.  She would show Paul that she had been able to get evidence and a top notch story.  Even if it was in this back water town. 

       She wanted this story as a dog wants a bone. This community would be her start.  The editor hired me, as a prank, felt that female journalists were good for one thing, well maybe two things?  Cooking and looking like cheese cake which meant he might decide to bed you. However she was one bell who would not like him thinking this way. She had been taken to his place; he said it was all on the up and up. He led me to the bed room, which was when she kicked him in the balls and walked out of his house. She knew he was married, his wife and she got along just fine.

      “What could she use to get her story? “She looked over the wad, that Denise gave me as a way to play it close to her chest.  This way, she might be able to bribe her way into some resources somewhere or some time.  Denise was the editor’s daughter, so, she knew where he kept his stash of mole.

     The wad looked big enough to choke a hoe se; she walked back to her room, slipped the wad into her brassier, to carry with me.  No one would think to pat me down there.  Would they?  She smirked, a sash thought of doing this. She had to grab another skirt and scoop necked blouse, she looked at her legs and saw scars from the melted nylons and other apparel on them.

Resubmersed her self into the water. The chill caused her teeth to chatter and her nerves to be on end. How it stung/

      She was brand spanking new, she was like a baby in search of milk, and her milk was a story.  This was her story; it had her name all over it.  She would show Paul that she had been able to get evidence and a top notch story.  Even if it was in this back water town. 

       She wanted this story as a dog wants a bone. This community would be her start.  The editor hired me, as a prank, felt that female journalists were good for one thing, well maybe two things?  Cooking and looking like cheese cake which meant he might decide to bed you. However she was one bell who would not like him thinking this way. She had been taken to his place; he said it was all on the up and up. He led me to the bed room, which was when she kicked him in the balls and walked out of his house. She knew he was married, his wife and she got along just fine.

      “What could she use to get her story? “She looked over the wad, that Denise gave me as a way to play it close to her chest.  This way, she might be able to bribe her way into some resources somewhere or some time.  Denise was the editor’s daughter, so, she knew where he kept his stash of mole.

     The wad looked big enough to choke a hoe se; she walked back to her room, slipped the wad into her brassier, to carry with me.  No one would think to pat me down there.  Would they?  She smirked, a sash thought of doing this. She had to grab another skirt and scoop necked blouse, she looked at her legs and saw scars from the melted nylons and other apparel on them.

Resubmersed her self into the water. The chill caused her teeth to chatter and her nerves to be on end. How it stung/

      She was brand spanking new, she was like a baby in search of milk, and her milk was a story.  This was her story; it had her name all over it.  She would show Paul that she had been able to get evidence and a top notch story.  Even if it was in this back water town. 

       She wanted this story as a dog wants a bone. This community would be her start.  The editor hired me, as a prank, felt that female journalists were good for one thing, well maybe two things?  Cooking and looking like cheese cake which meant he might decide to bed you. However she was one bell who would not like him thinking this way. She had been taken to his place; he said it was all on the up and up. He led me to the bed room, which was when she kicked him in the balls and walked out of his house. She knew he was married, his wife and she got along just fine.

      “What could she use to get her story? “She looked over the wad, that Denise gave me as a way to play it close to her chest.  This way, she might be able to bribe her way into some resources somewhere or some time.  Denise was the editor’s daughter, so, she knew where he kept his stash of mole.

     The wad looked big enough to choke a hoe se; she walked back to her room, slipped the wad into her brassier, to carry with me.  No one would think to pat me down there.  Would they?  She smirked, a sash thought of doing this. She had to grab another skirt and scoop necked blouse, she looked at her legs and saw scars from the melted nylons and other apparel on them.

The End

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