Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. She removed the belt and drew down his zipper. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. It was Missy and Michelle in her grandmother's old Buick. Come along with us in the morning. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone.
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