I'm starting to feel like mywhole life is some horrible story written by someone who can't get theirwork published." Who would write about us?" Someon... with nothing better to do except post bizarre short stories forsome website." That's just crazy." Buffy paused for a moment and turned around."Never mind, I can see them reading this."Faith ran over, "Oh shit. Hello. Speak up, we can't hear you." Hold on there is a comment section down at the bottom of this thing.Maybe we can hear them. This so-called “rain” I had experienced here in Monterey was merely mist that hung on the air and blew where the wind willed it.That being said, it had been a beautiful sunny day when Scott picked me up. The sun was beginning the early stages of setting as we exchanged hugs just outside the post and then drove off to the northbound freeway. Somewhere along our trek on the 101, I started dropping hints that I was in a bit of a randy mood. Scott easily picked up on my barely hidden meanings. They had looked out for each other for a long time, been comfortable as well but today had seen play deepen and evolve into something else, a newborn child of an emotion perhaps, but a demanding , lusty, loud and primal infant. He had to chuckle at that last word, he could see a faintly smug look on her face in his mind’s eye. Contented he paused and looked out over the valley again, still several hours of daylight left now the storm had passed, the stone was warm against his back and very,. “At least you’ll look the part.”Dad just nodded.I still had the problem of how to explain the the shirt and tie.After dinner, I found that Dimitri had compressed the entire text-converted newspaper archive and e-mailed it to me. After I had polished off what little homework I had for the night, I downloaded and decompressed the archive. It took up more room than I was comfortable with, but I was able to run a couple of text searches before bedtime. The summaries weren’t enlightening and it.
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