My husband... who was probably even now in London fucking Paul’s wife… My husband... the man who had lied and lied to me for the last nine months�...� My husband... I took a deep breath. “Well, if Uncle Paul says it’s ok...” Innocent sounding words that meant so much more! I could feel my skin prickle and the hair on my arms stand on end as the words emerged from my mouth. The message to Paul was clear; I wanted to share his bed; to sleep with him again. I could feel the tension and excitement in. ?But you did eventually figure things out so they worked in everyscenario, right? I mean, I?m recalling a viable plan in our sharedmemories.??Examine the proposed prospectus closer, director. You?ll see that, torepair the time stream, there is no plan. Nothing. I?m afraid the onlyway to proceed is to wing it- improvise at every destination.??What kind of plan is that, Alex?? My sister asked a little upset. Asthe director of Reilly Research Station, she swore by detailed plans andsometimes. More

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