.. perhaps five minutes, I wouldn't know, before Lexie turned and held out her hand to me. I walked to her, fishing in my pocket for a clean handkerch...ef; using it to dry her eyes and cheeks. I smiled inwardly as I noticed Peter Palmer-Harrison was performing the same service for his wife. He glanced at me and our eyes met. He smiled very slightly before returning his attention to his wife.Having completed the tender little task, he turned to me and held out his hand."Mr. Williams. I'm Peter. And their methods, the methods the ghosts are using to communicate, it’s as if they wish to negotiate with guns pointed at our heads...”His tone then softened, his eyes squinted, and his voice lowered to a whisper. Steam purled up from his collar.“I’m going to sacrifice two live chickens tonight, one for you each, I’ll say your names in my spell. Let me know if you want the blood. I’ve been drinking chicken blood mixed with rum. I’ve not had a haunting in my apartment yet,” he said, clutching. I gave her time to get used to the new sensation before, still inside her, I moved her onto her knees. Burying myself to the hilt, I proceeded work myself almost completely out before diving back in. A few repetitions, then I picked up the pace. The steady slapping of my balls against her ass complimented the rhythm of the still pouring rain and thunder of the outside world, creating the ultimate song of drunken lust. “Fuck me harder,” she commanded, but I ignored her. Truth be told, I was. ‘Sitting down, eating my lunch,’ he shrugged. ‘I didn’t say you could sit here,’ she spat. He got up, looked at the seat, looked behind it, looked underneath it, then shrugged and sat down again. ‘Don’t see no sign on it says I can’t sit here,’ he said and began eating again. He looked up and smiled almost apologetically as the pretty girl stared murderous daggers at him. She was pretty, when she wasn’t glaring in hatred. Her face was round, framed by the long, cark hair. Her eyes weren’t dark.
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