Wallet. Telephone. Taking one last clearing look around the flat, she opened and shut the entryway, bolted it, and as she turned, she wound up taking ... gander at a dark Charger, tag XTUD 459. "Reagan?" a voice called from inside. "Indeed," she got back to, strolling up to the auto. "Eli?" What welcomed her was the most dazzling grin she had ever observed, supplemented by the most wonderful face and body joined. Heavenly Fuck, she practically gasped. Going after the handle, she got in the auto. And Thursday I would spend the whole day interviewing potential people, and I was ecstatic about that. What the fuck happen? Did I send for the most incompetent people in the whole fucking world or something? I was getting frustrated. For a couple of reasons, first my office feels like a freaking shoe box, and the second after I’d interviewed close to 30 people, there was one person that I could say was decent. I wouldn’t call her intelligent, but at least she knew her way around an office and. More

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