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The only reward I want. Okay?"Janey nodded, then one of the other girls held out her hand. "Thanks, Tom. Dawn and my sister are friends." After that, one after another shook my hand, until Gloria Rodriquez and Sue Ellen were left. "Thanks," Gloria said, and then smiled. "Cool."Sue Ellen stepped up, grinned at me. "If you think I'm just gonna shake your hand," she said forthrightly, "you're out of your fucking mind." She stepped close, hugged me tight, grinding those imposing mammaries into my chest for a long few seconds, before letting go."You're welcome," I told her, and everyone cracked up."No PDA's," a voice interrupted. I looked up and saw Mrs. Jenkins, the sixty-year old woman I'd had for English Lit the year before.Sue Ellen turned to the old bat and grinned. "That was a display of personal gratitude. If I was displaying affection, I'd really have gotten in trouble." That brought more laughter from the other girls, and Sue Ellen went on, waving at me. "Tom Ferguson helped the. With her righthand and her sharp dagger, she cut through the skin above the nippleand horizontally on either side to the chest wall, as if she meant tohalve an apple. The blade made a semicircular cut along the creasewhere the breast met the chest. There was some blood, but the hotiron stopped the worst of it. With care and determination, she peeledthe skin off the lower part of the breast, pulling it forward until ithung free from the still attached nipple. Exposed was the creamy fatof the inner breast. Soldiers kept bringing heated irons as the torturerliterally melted away the fatty tissue, using the dagger to cut throughthe ducts and suspensary ligaments which had given the breast itsshape. While the barber held the nipple up, she cut and burned mostof what had been within the skin. Then she cut off the areola andnipple, leaving only a flap of skin and gleaming fascia where themammary gland had been. "Sew that skin to close the wound," saidthe lady, stepping back to.
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“We could spread it on the ground alongside the car. No one could see us from the highway. You’re right next to the field and it’s been ploughed and disced. It would be softer than my bed at home.”“But what about the cold?” he answered, still wary of the situation.“Then we might have to keep it to a coolie,” she replied. When he looked confused, she said with a slight laugh, “That’s a quickie in a snowdrift.”There weren’t any snowdrifts, but it was a cold, almost November evening when Sam had left the truckstop. He started to say something else, but instead gave a huff and said, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”He was surprised as he stepped out of the car that the wind didn’t seem to be blowing. Normally, it was always windy on The Dixie Highway, especially in the fall. He was further surprised as he lowered himself down on the blanket that it felt almost comfortable.Once he was on the blanket, he said, “My name’s Sam. What’s yours?”“Edith,” she replied. “I was named after my.

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