Of the two extreme protagonists home, I'm definitely extreme the least extremeasses noteworthy, so I'll extreme home makeover quickly dispatch with myself first. I've always been a bit of a slow starter in life, and while I should have extreme entered college immediately after high extreme school (I even had a scholarship), I went into the Army for extreme four years instead extremeasses. It wasn't a total extremeasses waste, since I wound up writing for numerous military makeover newspapers movies and periodicals; learning the extreme practical asses side makeover of writing, so to speak. I earned a couple more foundation scholarships in the meantime, and wound up with as much free education as I wanted when I got extreme out. That was seven years ago. Now extremeasses, at the time extremeasses of our little story extremeasses, I found myself extremeasses a 31-year-old student; the extreme "old man extremeasses" in just about every class I took. Of course, all good things end eventually, and I extreme knew extreme that very soon, after I got the doctorate, I extreme'd have to move extreme over to movies the other side of extreme the fence permanently as extreme a prof extremeasses. The school already had a extremeasses spot waiting for me. I figured I'd take it.
The article extreme I was considering was extremeasses about the alleged abuse of "mail-order brides" from India. America men of extreme home makeover Indian descent arranged with matchmakers back home and paid a dowry to the girls' families, as well as the costs to have the young women flown to the makeover states for marriage. It extreme was an extreme increasingly makeover popular occurrence that, according to the lady I was interviewing extreme, was leading to consequences that included physical violence and even murder after amorous "buyers" became bored husbands. I met her on campus extreme, took her to extreme my house, and talked to her for almost three hours before extreme she finally left. I wasn't sure how I was going extreme to extreme write the article. It extreme was most certainly going to sell, probably to a extreme large national mag, but I was in the middle of my thesis extremeasses, and extremeasses taking time out for this extreme was going to be difficult.
Enter the antagonist extreme home makeover, stage extreme center.
"Freddy, my extreme home makeover boy, I extreme'm going extreme home makeover to give you a gift," he continued in his best salesman accent. "Absolutely extreme free. No strings attached." Again, my extreme looked must makeover have spooked him a little, and the smile became crooked before movies straightening again. "Sit right there and watch for a minute." He nodded at an overstuffed chair beside me. "Just let me do my thing extremeasses, and I promise you'll never extreme regret the day you met The Great Menlo extreme."
"Shhh," he scolded lightly. "Just look into my eyes and relax. That extremeasses's right extremeasses. Just relax extreme. You know what's going to extreme happen, don't you? Just let it happen. That's right. Relax."
They made quite a picture. She, a full head shorter than he, looked steeply up extremeasses into his eyes extreme. His head was extreme tilted sharply down toward hers. Their eyes were mere extremeasses inches apart.
"What movies did you do to her?" I asked levelly. Somehow, I kept my voice from exploding.
"Oh, we had a little fun." He grinned broadly and gave me a little extreme, knowing wink. "Kind of a mousy little girl; intelligent extreme as hell, but that type is always makeover a sure extreme bet in my business extreme. It home's the fantasy of the whole thing extreme. They practically go under by extreme themselves makeover." He looked at her as if she were medium-sized trout, caught on a fishing trip extreme with the boys. "This one's a extreme little short in the experience department, but I'm extreme sure extreme home makeover you can remedy that, huh, Freddy?" He winked again, then brought his hands up and cupped them in front of extreme his chest. "Nice body."
"Geez, look at the extremeasses time." he stammered. The watch seemed to move a little. I wasn't paying makeover attention. "I go on stage in an hour. Gotta be moving on." The watch moved again.
"Rape extreme?" he screamed. "Christ, Freddy. You got it all wrong. Everything was extreme home makeover completely asses ..." He groped extreme for the extremeasses word. "... consensual."
"Consensual?" I roared, taking another step toward his asses quivering form.
"Shit extreme, yes extremeasses! She home wanted it more extreme than I did!"
"Christ extreme, Freddy. Don't talk extreme like that. It wasn't rape, I swear." He extreme was outside extreme now, backing down the steps home toward the sidewalk. "Listen. I've fixed it so that you're the one who extreme can wake extreme her up. Just do it. As extreme soon as extreme she's awake, she's going to want to talk extreme to you, to tell you all about it extremeasses. Whatever she tells you, I swear it's extremeasses going to be the truth. As God is my witness, everything she says extremeasses will be the gospel truth. Shit." I extremeasses had extremeasses started after him down the steps.
She lay on her back on the couch, her hands folded on her flat stomach, her face a picture of peace asses. The corners of her mouth were elevated ever so slightly in a wistful smile. If she was dreaming extreme, it was home a good extreme dream. The gentle rise and extreme fall of extreme her chest was the only movement extreme. Her nipples were erect.
Almost immediately, her eyelids fluttered open. She turned slightly to look extremeasses at me, then extremeasses raised her arms above her extreme home makeover head, yawned enormously, and stretched like a cat. She was smiling. My eyes extreme home makeover were extreme naturally drawn to her chest as she arched her back. Seeing where my gaze had settled, she flushed and lowered her arms, but decided it would be extreme silly to extreme cover herself now, and sat up, blushing, with downcast eyes.
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