There were three people waiting for me. One was obviously the senior partner. He looked every bit as distinguished as Chasen Wellington.Beside him was...a middle-aged woman, with her hair tightly bound in a bun, and wearing a unisex business suit that downplayed her femininity in every possible way. She was holding onto a leather bound report folder and tapping her toe clearly anxious to get on with it and go back to whatever she did the rest of the time.The third person at our meeting was. I watched for a few more seconds, my heart torn as I watched the hatchling practically beat itself to death against the white wall. What made the situation even more pitiful was the near-constant chirping, a sound I typically enjoy hearing. …but not given this particular situation. At last, I unlocked and opened the door and stepped into my apartment. Even with the door closed and locked, even with the air conditioning unit turned on, I could still hear the soft near-incessant chirping. It. ”“On wet skin it gets sticky,” I remarked.“Yes but you can lick it off -- it’s sweet.” She popped open the canister and removed a feather applicator. “This is what you apply it with.”“I know where I want to put some.” I took the canister and applicator, dipped the feathers into the powder and spread some on her thighs. “It does make your skin feel slippery,” I said as I smoothed my hands along her legs. With the feather I daubed some of the golden dust on her cheeks and lips.“Careful -- I don’t. “You’ll never believe what happened at the Y,” announced Tara. “It was totally awesome.”“You’ll have to tell me about it later,” said Dad. “For various reasons, we haven’t finished moving the furniture and setting up the tables in the living room.”Dad was glaring at me when he said that. I wondered why he thought it was my fault. He and Dan were supposed to do that before we left for the Y this morning ... oh!“We need to get moving. People will start arriving in about half an hour. Move it!”Dan.
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