The pistol was a Taurus Model 1911 SS in .45ACP. It was a large framed, magazine fed pistol, manufactured in Brazil. It had some extra magazines, too....Cody jammed all the magazines in his pockets, after loading one in each weapon. The pistol went in his belt and the rifle in his left hand. He gazed down at the knives he had laid on the table for a moment. The he sighed, picked the knives up and pushed them into his satchel."Captain," Cody said with a nod of acknowledgment before stepping. Now it was under some new guise, some new trick to try and lure the attentions of anyone outside the small town on the outskirts of the city. The clientele was nothing extravagant, consisting largely of the town’s garden variety, redneck alcoholics, businessmen and women stalling for Happy Hour on their jaunt home, and desperate college students turned away at the upscale clubs of the large city. All gathered together in this disheveled edifice with nothing in common, save for the drink. It was. ‘Hmm, where to begin?’ she asked smiling, not really joking now, but wanting desperately to see the smile return to his face, making this less serious than she herself was now making it. And then he did smile. ‘Why not begin with what you know? Or don’t know about whatever it is you’d first like to know,’ he told her. ‘Like what?’ she said allowing him to turn the key she’d actually given him in the lock, the door slowly opening. ‘Why don’t we start with masturbation?’ he asked. Hearing that,. I say 'overdone' in the context of the women I saw at work andon the streets every day. My showgirl stage makeup blended perfectlywith the smiling, happy faces surrounding me at that moment.My initial impression of the brow work had been correct. The thick,shapeless brows that had formerly closed in my eyes were gonecompletely, replaced by razor-thin, high, penciled-in arches. Myeyelids were dark, heavy-lidded and mysterious, shadowed above andbelow and blending beyond the corners. They were.
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