Then strike a few poses and walk back to me. And remember, I don’t want any lady like walking - you walk like a whore.’ He slapped my bum and off ... went. I really swayed the hips as I moved and stuck a hand on my left hip. I was a walking cliche.‘Look into every car and smile,’ he shouted after me. All was in darkness. I wondered if anyone could possibly see me. Maybe they’d think my silhouette was that of a genetic woman. As I passed the first car, I could see a solitary figure behind the. You read and signed here.”“I did. Years ago.”“I had a bit of a crush.”“Thanks. Sure. I might buy one. You have my novels?”“Most. We’ve long sold out of the signed ones.”“I’ll take care of that,” Joe chuckled. “You have moms?”“I think so.”She had a compact body. Busty. He admired her full ass briefly before returning to the poem. He hadn’t looked at it in years. He admired its beauty. And the poem wasn’t bad either.She brought back a stack of hardbound books and set them on the floor. moms on. More

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