"Jim!" I said sternly. "What are you looking at?" "N.n.nothing," he stammered. "You were looking up my skirt, young man," I said with mockanger, "w...ren't you?" Jim said nothing. He just looked down at the floor. "Would you like a better look?" I asked, my voice likemelting butter. I didn't wait for an answer. I stood up, my tingling lovegrotto just inches from Jim's head. I stood there, with myfeet wide apart, my ankles flexed on my high heeled shoes.Bending down, I. " Well, she's probably very nice... you know... for a Siberian brood-mare." Olga! Is that really her name?" We're not sure, she speaks about three words of English, and all of those are foods." Russia must be a hell of a place if she'd rather spend Christmas somewhere she doesn't even speak the language rather than there." Russians don't celebrate Christmas until January 7th." Marcus' voice interjected as he jogged to a halt beside them. "In line with the Julian calendar." I see the speaking. More

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