305 @page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; } APT. 305 “Baby, please,” Charles begged. “Why do you doing this every time?” Mariana asked with her thick Spanish accent, stamping her foot, “I tol’ you it is jus’ a job, jus’ work, Charlie. Now get out of the way so I don’t be late again.” Charles hated having to do this in the courtyard for all the neighbors to see. He wiped his forehead and took a half step towards his wife so she would hear his quiet words. “But, baby, we talked about this,” Charles said in a low voice, “I have a lot of money, I have enough that you don’t have to work anymore.” “I know, Charlie,” she replied, putting on her pouty face, the face she made when she wanted to get her way, “but I need to work, I always take care of myself.” He loved her accent. He loved her long legs and her thick mane of wavy, black hair. He loved the tits that he had bought for her as a wedding gift. He loved everything about her but her job.
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