She still was shockingly fast and coordinated. She was still my Rachel. The girl I fell in love with, and for the same reasons I did all those years a...o.The next afternoon, we were sitting in the Sightseer Lounge, looking down at the Virginian scenery, as we snuggled together on a love seat.“Why were you waiting for me for two weeks?” I asked her. It was still a question that was nagging at me. She had never waited for me before. We set up meeting places, usually, through messages. Our whole. And so were thetwo smaller ones (but still the size of my thumbs) on his chest. Theystuck out - erect and hard.Tom's head was bald. Thus Babs could clearly see a drill hole with ametallic inlay above each ear. The only hairs on his head were the brushthick and inch-long lashes protruding from his lids. They wereartificial, of course, and had cost me above two hours work. A modifiedtattooing pistol shot hair by hair into the skin. Each 'hair', apolycarbonate fiber, came with a set of minuscule. More

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