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Marcus learned that Daisy was from South London and was heading to Torquay to stay the week with her Grandparents. Marcus found out about the music Daisy was into and Marcus listened to one of her headphone earpieces. At no point was either’s age ever mentioned.When Daisy asked Marcus what he was going to study at University, he lied. “Physiotherapy” Marcus said confidently, adding “I just love running my hands all over female bodies” he said half joking. Daisy giggled and chastised herself for not coming up with some form of response to keep the flirting going. “I specialise in massage ... these hands have talent” Marcus added. “I could give you a massage if you want Daisy” offered Marcus. Marcus’s style was direct. For him it normally worked, but he was in unchartered territory with someone so young. He felt a little nervous doing so, but he did not show it. “What here” asked Daisy a bit taken aback. Marcus clarified by saying “Yeh, a foot massage”. Daisy was up for that.Marcus. Abandoned alone at sea, Helen tried to control the panic that was threatening to take control of her. Fortunately, in spite of being blinded by the extreme darkness of the waters, she was able to grasp and hold onto a piece of flotsam floating by, which the currents providentially washed up on shore the next day, taking Helen along with it.After her initial look of the surroundings, Helen made a cursory examination of herself to see whether she had any injuries or broken bones. Thanking God for not finding any, Helen then took time out to assess her situation.She was alone, barefoot and skimpily clad in only a wicked weasel bikini. She had no survival gear of any kind and had no means to create fire. Having just turned thirty, the voluptuous blond had no survivor skills what so ever, being used only to the rich and luxurious life her family’s wealth could afford her. She was in other words completely ?fucked?. Just as Helen was about to break down and wallow in self pity, she saw a.
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Don’t let the kids see the bottle or see you drunk. Good night.’ He cursed at me as I climbed up to my floor. I collapsed into bed and felt miserably alone. # By Monday I felt better. I had bruises but I was no longer stiff and I went to work with grim determination. We had to strip the Camaro down, remove serial numbers, anything that would identify it. Our man at the DMV could rush a new VIN but it was going to cost half of Gunnar’s thirty grand. The Viper could wait a little longer, that VIN only cost five grand. Cal and I worked together on the Camaro and took it apart completely in an hour, but it would take two days to clean it. I put on my headphones to cover his wailing heavy metal and let TLC spill out and into me. I went Zen and spaced out, cleaning methodically slow and thorough until Cal put his hand on my shoulder. It was noon and I slipped my phones off. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Someone’s at the door.’ We went to the security monitor and saw it was the Viking, Gunnar. ‘What is it? You.

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