3. I want you to turn me. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. The note-passer lagged behind with her. But though she lied about pretty much everything else, she didn’t lie about that. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer.
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