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Thursday, 7 April 2016
02:00:30 AM (GMT)
In my many travels, I have discovered that if one wants to be happy, they must have to give up a sense of self. No one wants to see the good and wholesome anymore. That is a fact that will continuously be proven by whom we give attention to and who we cast aside. I met Dan during my travels in London. A tall man with a face that looks like it was roughly carved and if not careful, one could cut themselves on his chin or cheekbones. He had hair that looked more honey then brown and was messy in the way that was stylish at the time. He walked with a swagger. Slow, deliberate steps like he had all the time in the world to get where he needed to be. He approached me after I had finished lunch in a little pub on Fleet street and without introducing himself first, sat down across from me. Looking at me with a careful eye that took in all the details from my long, unkempt hair up in a bun and plaid, button-down shirt; to the remnants of my meal on the plate and my bright yellow wallet sitting next to me. I raised an eyebrow at him and wiped my mouth with a napkin. "Can I help you?" He extended his hand, "Dan Thomas. I'm assuming you're Gretchen Mills?" I take his hand, it is a strong, firm handshake and I nod slowly, picking my words carefully. "I am, who's asking?" He places his forearms on the table, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. "Gretchen, I am in need of your... assistance. I heard that you are one of the best and the most reliable. You see, I'm engaged to be wed in a few weeks' time." "Congratulations," I say. He smiles with no real emotion, "Thank you. But, you see, that's the problem. My wife is well, eccentric and while I tolerate many of her hobbies, her new one just isn't okay with me." I tilt my head to the side, surely he knows I'm not a maid service. "Mr. Thomas, you know what you're asking for, correct?" He nods, "Yes, and I'm willing to pay more than the average amount. Every time I do this, she always ruins it. I need it to last this time." I smile reassuringly, "Of course, Mr. Thomas. I have a satisfaction guarantee policy. Where were you thinking?" He waves his hand dismissively, shaking his head, "Anywhere out of the country." "What does she look like?" "Here," he pulls out his phone to show me a picture. She's brunette, petite with small features and a slim body. Her chest is small as well as her ass. I'd estimate 100 pounds soaking wet. "I can do something with that," I reply. "Oh, thank you. When are you going to arrive?" "How does next Thursday around 11 am sound?" "Perfect. Thank you, so much. Here's my card, I'd love to have dinner with you," he replies, sliding over a business card. He leaves and I sit back, by the time I get my hands on her, she'll be shipped out to Turkey and be trained to eat. She'll make lots of money as a 500 pound food whore. I make a note in my phone and close my eyes, picturing Dan. Oh, yes, I'll take him up on his offer for dinner. It's so wonderful that he's single.

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