Saturday, April 18, 2015

Following Orders

According to his lingering perusal, the politician liked my figure. I cast a baleful glare at the damned angel behind me. His master had slipped away, unnaturally. If you want the Number of the Beast, it’s on my phone, but you won’t like it when he answers.

The rich always have excellent drugs. I lured the politician to his room by making him think it was his idea – and that he’d get into my non-existent panties.

It took so little to help him overdose, I almost felt bad, but a job is a job, and I can’t quit this one.


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