It was here when I discovered another of Katie’s talents. She was a wordsmith of sorts and would get into these silly moods of making up parodies an... singing.“Oh, what’s that French song that keeps going, ‘inky-dinky parlez vous?” she asked.“Oh, I think you mean, ‘Mademoiselle from Armentières.’ I replied.Yes, that’s it. Okay well, how about this…”“Oh, Mademoiselle from New York City, Parlez-vousMademoiselle from New York City, Parlez-vousMademoiselle from New York City,Kissed my tits and. Mallao sat on the edge of Maia's bed, looking at her face. With her eyes closed, and her muscles slack with sleep, she looked so damn innocent. So peaceful. Like a proper Filipino angel, not some docklands slut who traded her body to white men for money. Did she fuck for money? He didn't really know. But yeah, he knew. How else did she afford all those shiny silk dresses for the white men? Surely not on Dad's life insurance and Mallao's salary.In one smooth motion, Mallao peeled off his. More

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