She wore her long flaxen hair in a French twist; enhancing her slender white neck.I could imagine her hair at night, tumbling onto her breast as she s...ipped into bed. How I dreamt of getting into that bed with her; become a lesbian. I could tell she liked me too; often I caught her gazing at me.Then during a lunch break near the hall we’d got chatting and she told me she lived alone in the hills with just her dog for company. I asked if she got lonely in such a place but she said she always had. Worthless New Age crap basically. He pretended to browse while surreptitiously checking out the girl behind the counter.Yeah, she was hot, but also with a wacky streak. Her pale face had the classic beauty of a porcelain doll, but enough warmth shone from her cheeks to give her an approachable air. Her black hair fell back across her shoulders in waves of glossy curls. The wackiness came from her clothes. She wore an old fashioned black velvet bodice, like something out of a period drama, and a. More

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