Matt Cadd was alone. Honey? Boring. Raven? Dancing. He went looking for Candi. He found her in Starbuck's with mocha and croissant. He wheedled. He smooth-talked. He got her.
She waited.
"Doll. You mean it? You're charging me?"
"It's a work night," she pouted, "you--of anyone--ought to understand."
Fifties don't talk. They scream.
Son of Bleah
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*NYY 3 SF 1*
After getting shut out *3-0* on Friday (on one hit) the Giants made it a
little more competitive today. The result was the same, however. T...
1 day ago
1 comment:
Matt Cadd, on the other hand, IS lookin' good. Nice to read you again, Matt. Yes. A most worthy creation. Fifty is as fifty does. Well.
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