She was always tired. She was unsure if it was from being alone for years, in the nearly-empty house, or from working the graveyard shift, or both. Sh... was plump and apple-cheeked, average, not a Big Beautiful Woman; cute, not pretty. For the umpteenth time, she shoved her mahogany bangs out of her eyes, thinking absently that she really should get her hair cut soon.As if by some innate sense, or perhaps smelling the tuna she always cracked open, her two cats and latest rescue kitten scampered. Like farmers from Iowa on a tour of Manhattan, we got off the elevator and gawked. The cavern was at least a hundred feet across. The ceiling was perhaps twenty feet above our heads. It seemed to be a perfect circular dome. The floor was covered with white material of some sort I could not identify. Everything was a pristine white."Christ," I said under my breath."To access the laboratory, you must wear clean room garments. We maintain ultra clean room conditions." The professor sounded like a. The house gave her something to talk about, and the cooking gave her something to do. Me? She let me open the wine.She had decorated the house to fit its age, and it had that aura, like the old and spooky house of my grandmother, that I had loved as a child. I sipped Cabernet and leaned on the kitchen counter while she prepared the salad and checked the pasta and told me about all the families who had owned it before it became hers. I appreciated the house, and I liked her histories. It was. ‘No, really, I have a shoot today, and I have to go home and get ready.’ Mika checked her reflection in Terry’s computer monitor and wiped a spray bit of cum off her forehead. ‘Thanks for the good time though.’ ‘Let’s do this again,’ Terry said. ‘How about Friday?’ Mika looked at him in a way Terry couldn’t decipher. ‘Sure. But next time bring some friends, because we’re totally doing the gang-bang thing.’ She left the apartment with her purse swining like a metronome timing her steps. On the.
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