Turned a tumbler, jimmied the lock, in my own emergent brand of bdsm. InterrogationThe bare bulb. The restriction. The soft threat in the ear. The false-bottomed gesture of help, of friendship. The hard chair. The circling steps. Good cop, bad cop. The supposed reward. The sure consequence. The white-knuckled with-holding. The tortured
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Comments 16
I get to leave in half an hour,though.Which is good,because Lillian is makin' me fuckin' crazy...
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The reason you're at work is to put pennies together to get to SF! In the words of Yeats:
"What need you, being come to sense,
But fumble in a greasy till
And add the halfpence to the pence
And prayer to shivering prayer, until
You have dried the marrow from the bone?
For men were born to pray and save:
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave."
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Man! Couldn't you give me sunnier prospects than Yeats offers here?! You makin' me all hunkered as a Dickens character! :)
I hear you, though: I can see that absolutely incredible carrot swinging about 3 months' distance from here. Yaaay!
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What's been hittin' you about them?
Man, I need another email exchange with you pretty soon, aight?
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I'll never tell you ze secret plans.
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We could at least see how dear you hold your secrets. :)
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