For the Love of Chambermaids

I spend ridiculous amounts of time in lavish hotels just to catch a break from life. I wear my furs and flaunt my Patek chronometer. I use fancy phrases and blow cigarette smoke in the butlers’ faces as I sashay in my spiffy high-heels. But what must stupefy the staff is my cluttering aptitude.

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The Finger-Thucking Wrethler

James is my cowboy ninja. He is fearsome and bad to the bone. His favorite thing in the whole wide world, as they say, though he hardly knows what lies beyond “them hills”, is to wrestle. He makes feral noises while he leaps across furniture, flying through the air and swiftly kicking down doors. He is a deadly weapon. And a study in contradictions

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