The gentleman's pistol was beautifully gilded, the barrel and grip etched by a craftsman from Germany. If it had not been for the glint of that gildin..., the highwayman might not have seen it at all. The highwayman's pistol was plain, it was a tool, not an ornament, it was simple and effective. The pretty pistol dropped from the gentleman's limp fingers and landed in the road the powder had been damp, it had never fired. Rebecca had not been able to move for some time, she stood and watched her. Sorry, I felt really gross so I hopped in the shower. He said. Why are you here? I asked him. I barely remembered anything from last night. I walked you home and on the way you threw up several times. I wanted to make sure you were ok, so I stayed the night. I hope you dont mind. He said. But why were you in my shower? I asked. You threw up all over me and yourself. I took my clothes off and threw them in the wash, as well as your clothes. I suggest you hop in the shower. I made sure to be. It had all been too confusing. Perhaps she had fallen asleep or become drunk and was led upstairs, comatose.She would ask Lena later, if the opportunity arose. She descended the stairs, intent of forgetting her troubled night and on seeing what the rest of the Marlowe estate was like.She wound her way through the many rooms, not hearing a sound except an occasional creaking of old wood resettling after the night coldness. She wound herself eventually outside, on the wide marble back verandah. She couldnt even move further,oh god,its all going to happen. She turned back as if she was about to leave, but her foot movements were very slow.she was going downstairs slowly followed by him. He couldt take his eyes off those plumpy ass and those sexy curves.just before reaching the main door, she looked back at him as if saying bye, but didn’t utter a word.he came near to her, looked at her eyes, she couldnt face that look of him. She could hear his breathing coming close to her. She felt.
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