”“I think it’s a ‘54. 365. Worth more than this baby.” She patted the Audi dash.“365 horsepower?”She gave me a heavy-lidded glance, “N...ver mind.”“How do you know about cars? Your ex?”“Two brothers.”“Oh.”We tailed Bolton for a week. A boring week. At least he was consistently repetitive. Monday through Thursday he left his office somewhere between seven and nine in the evening. Parked in his own space in the apartment garage of the Modernist.Went upstairs and, presumably showered. At least he. Now, a lot of you bleeding hearts will mourn what happened to him. Don’t. A lot of lousy people live in this world. They destroy lives. They destroy careers. They’re bad news. And they feel absolutely no remorse for anything that they do. Such people are known as the sociopaths. Our good friend Lenny Forester was one of them. And now he’s worm food. The world is better without him in it, trust me. Yeah, I’ve met quite a few men like Lenny Forester, and a few women. Like a certain lady named. Her complexion had the slight yellow tinge of rich cream, which was set off by the rosy nipples which tipped her full huge breasts and the still deeper rose of her lips and mouth. She happened to be standing on one of the silken cushions which, singly and in piles, were scattered about the room in profusion. It made her height just equal to my own. As soon as I had made the speech last recorded, I advanced and folded her in my embrace. Her soft arms were wound round me in response; and our lips. Kitty brightened my day when she arrived at the café before we'd locked the door and placed the closed sign in the window. She turned down Ruth's offer for a cup of coffee, saying she would help me with my chores. Ben looked skeptical when I put her to work scrubbing a pot he'd just emptied. After seeing what a great job Kitty did with that first pot, Ben brought two more for her to scrub. With her help, we finished in record time and left the café a few minutes before three.Instead of stopping.
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