It was nearly the end of the lunch hour, and Topher still hadn't met his quota.
Ever since he had been turned out onto the street by his one-time benefactor, Topher had been forced to satisfy a set amount of clients per day. Despite hating every minute of it, Topher had watched as his life became an endless routine of john after john, spending
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"Christopher..." Oh, he remembered when they were young and innocent and there was still sunshine out. It was like it was yesterday...
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He had to get revenge for that tragic water polo accident that left him paralyzed until he invented a cure with science.
"Come to the wedding, Topher. I think you'll find it... enlightening."
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Too much!
Also, he didn't have a suit. Because he was poor, you see.
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"Fine," Topher whispered. "If that's the way it is. Then I WILL! AND THEN YOU'LL LOVE ME!!!!"
Look, the sun was coming out!
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Then --
"What should I do to Skywalker? How can I help?"
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That was probable.
"I would soil myself with his touch. All for you!"
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