Let me just call her Jenni.Jenni was in her mid 40’s. She was one of those professional women in skirts and suits, trying to hide their vulnerabilit... in a bitchy demeanor. But I was able to see through the façade. I could see the real Jenifer, desperately wanting someone to put her in her place.She is someone I would call a brat, an older version of a brat. I smiled at the near future that I had planned for her, my sweet slut Jenny. I smirked as the thought occupied my mind, the bossy principle. Billy, you take two down towards Alpha an’ ride the southern fence. Ferd, you go with ‘em. Where’s Janey? [a woman raised her hand] Okeh. You get a horse fer Richard an’ take him to the highway and ride the fence to the northwest corner. Take a coil of wire, cutters an’ a strainer. Richard, you got a swag?”“Yes.”“Okeh. Janey get a billy for the kid, an’ two days tucker from cookie. The rest of you, stick around. We’re gonna work on the veg garden an’ the chooks.”Janey was several inches shorter. ”“Indeed, I wondered why she fornicated so delightfully,” I explained, “We have no fondness for each other.”“None what so ever,” Camelia agreed.“I am merely conjoining to procreate an heir,” I added.“A male heir, if I fail I shall of course lay again until I produce one.” Camelia added.“Over my dead body,” Mother snapped, “You strumpet!”“I wouldn’t call him a strumpet,” Camelia replied.“Not him, you, you hussy,” Mother snapped back, “And you can go, go far away and never come back.” “Actually. To Tony Rizzo's mind, a cemetery was an invitation to snipers. Not many Mafia bosses reached the ripe old age of 72. Tony had because he never relaxed his guard.The tall old, white haired man had stridden across the cemetery from his limo as if he owned the place. His body guards were fanned out around him and were having trouble matching the pace of the tall old man. All were having trouble except for Maximilian (Max) Cornelius. Max was the last line of defense in the protective ring around.
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