They are just acting as an absentee father," Jennifer continued."Um, Sandy, did you know about this?" Yes, Mark, I do. I'm not allowed to tell anyone ...hough. I guess I'm sort of a mascot of his unit. They are all very nice men." I'm sure they are just swell guys -- who would thoroughly enjoy making mush out of anyone that hurt you." Oh Mark, you're making too much of this."Paul changed the subject before it got out of hand. "Well, Sandy, now that you have a full ride scholarship, where do you. You’d hardly know it was four in the afternoon. The place was jumping. About twelve guys were gathered around the pool table, the only well-lit area in the joint, all talking at once. Dante was stalking the table, a cue-stick in his hand. Guys were shouting. A stack of bills lay on one corner of the table. A glance at the blond waitress standing by her station at the end of the bar let her know I wasn’t there to drink. In another life, she had been pretty, but now she was a perfect fit for. Christ!“You’re not starting tonight,” Warren told me when I came into his office as requested. “You could pinch hit for an infielder if we need that. Gotta keep all three starting outfielders because Brennan’s starting as DH, and we don’t want you playing outfield.”“Or infield,” I said. “I know my reputation as a fielder, Mr. Warren.”“Paul,” he said. “I’m a manager, not an accountant.”“Yessir,” I said.“Paul,” he said again.He told me to sit down. He sat down too, behind his little desk in that. As the echoes of the last peal faded across the square, a young woman carrying a jug mounted the platform and positioned herself beside the bound man, so as not to obscure the view. She tipped a quantity of the oily fluid from the jug into her hand, and applied it to the man's ... thing. Miranda fancied that she heard him groan, but could not be sure above the excited murmurs of the crowd.Before Miranda's astonished gaze, the girl commenced to stroke the oil into the man's ... thing. Within.
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