I did it to spend the evening inside a sweaty old gym with a beautiful red head named Marge. Now I knew Marge’s red hair was real, because there wer... streaks of gray running through it. Not many, just enough to show that it was natural. Her hair color was not the only real thing about her. I could tell that her heavy breasts were real by the slight sag, even with the industrial strength bra.She was carrying maybe thirty pounds of extra weight. It was the kind of weight life in general added to. Looking down at the book in her hands, she realised it was a notebook, mostly blank. The first several pages were filled with cramped, legible but hurried script that she recognised as Alistair's. She opened to the first page of what she had assumed would be a journal, feeling guilty, but unable to resist the temptation of reading what he'd written.To her surprise, instead of personal ramblings, there were a variety of quotes, some of which she recognised from Brother Aldous' lessons while she. More

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