"Mark, I don't know about this guy. He can't hold a guitar for shit." Roger walks along, brandishing his Fender. "Are you sure about him
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Mimi makes a face at him and steals another kiss. "Sure, blame the boss. Leave your girlfriend feeling alone and neglected, with nothing to do with her life but take dance classes with young, nubile boys. That's a good plan."
Somebody's in a good mood.
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Mark slinks off.
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"Hey, baby. Love you."
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Whispering ensues.
X-rated whispering.
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More X-rated whisperings.
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There might be biting.
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However, before they can get more into it, a paper pops into existance on Mimi's head.
There are rooms. Use them. ~Jane
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