One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. "I'll see him fettered myself. ” Michelle started to sob. I shouldn't talk like that. Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men.
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