Julie pushed herself from Rachel'slap and stood. The peach panties slid down to her ankles."Are you going to start behaving yourself, now?" Yes... for...now." Julie said coyly.Rachel reached back and gave the vixen's bottom a hard slap.Julie yelped and arched her hips forward slightly."What was that?!" Yes, ma'am." Julie gulped politely.Rachel stood, walked over to a closet and took out a whitecotton bathrobe. She noticed that Julie was rubbing her bottomand trying to look back and survey the. The fact he was still conscious was a minor miracle to Miles.Slowly, Miles picked himself up off the floor, exchanged his battered and vomit-streaked suit (that girl must have been on something really bad) for his favourite pyjamas, made himself a mug of hot cocoa, and slumped into his comfy desk chair, finally allowing his aching, throbbing, bruised body to relax.Although Miles felt utterly drained of all energy, he resisted the urge to sleep, wanting to check on the schematics before he. "It was terrifying. And when she overtook that bus on that winding country lane —"Gabby clearly felt this was not her fault. "These roads are too narrow," she said. "They should make them wider."Fran turned on Gabby. "And another thing," she asserted; "when a traffic light's red, you're supposed to stop."Gabby's expression suggested that no reasonable person would take seriously such an absurd regulation. "Fran, honey," she explained, "there was no traffic." There was an old lady crossing!". . ... nothing.You try it again. Nothing. Then again. Maybe the battery in the fob has gone dead. The car still won’t start. You stare into the distance, your brain frozen with indecision. What the hell? You start to think: Maybe it’s not the fob. Maybe it’s the car battery. You turn on the headlights. They spring to life, then quickly fade to yellow and die altogether.Shit.It’s the car battery, the freaking car battery.So now what do you do?That depends on where you are. If you’re parked in.
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