My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. And then her pace slackened. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. “In all fairness,” she thought to herself as she coaxed his mouth toward her left nipple. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. “You hear him?” he remarked, looking impressively around.
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