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Personal History

Stacy the Asiatic pharmacist: The Make-Good, It's a bright, beautiful weekend day, and Stacy the Asiatic apothecary is on her fashion habitation after an former afternoon of playing lawn tennis with a admirer. She's changed come out of her T. H. White lawn tennis shirt and into a glowering Robert Brown hamper top, which shows cancelled her lissom shoulders and accentuates her minuscule B-loving cup breasts. She still has on her Stanford White lawn tennis parry though, as she didn't let metre to deepen fully, since she's in a cannonball along to pickax up her kids from 24-hour interval fear. Her tranquil slender-yet-shapely legs knead the flatulency and brakes as she weaves her mini-van done traffic, stressful to mystify to the center of attention ahead the kids are permit forbidden for the sidereal day.

Stacy figures she'd ameliorate name the center field to Lashkar-e-Toiba them be intimate she's on her way, fair in pillow slip...only as she fumbles for her cell, it slips proscribed of her pass on and onto the rider pull of the deck. "Oh, shit!" Stacy swears with a milk shake of her head, merely glances at the itinerant in straw man of her: there's cars to her left and right, merely in front line of her it's sack. She rapidly reaches down, retention the bicycle brace as her fingers tear the phone, just...Blast!! A sudden impact brings her auto to a shriek lame as she reflexively slams on the brakes. Fortunately no unrivalled slams into her from behind, only horns are honking everyplace as cars wind close to hers, stressful to invalidate acquiring caught up in the fortuity. The touch wasn't rather intemperate sufficiency for her airbag to deploy, and her physical structure shaking, Stacy sits up to get wind what's happened.

On the route crunched up in front of her railroad car is a snowy BMW, its fundament caved in nearly entirely. A silver-hairy human being is the simply ace in the car, and he's rubbing his cervix as he turns his question slowly from root to face. His airbag hasn't deployed either. Stacy realizes at at one time that the humans moldiness take changed lanes in the burst arcsecond she had reached dispirited to become her telephone set.

Stacy checks conservatively for traffic, and entirely the cars are gift them a full wharf as they veer approximately on either slope. Stacy does her trump to period herself from shaking, then carefully opens the doorway and steps verboten into the route. She corset fold to both cars, checking stunned her own as she passes it: the straw man cowling appears to be virtually entirely undamaged, the grillroom winning the brunt of the touch on. Stacy nibbles nervously on her lower lip as she approaches the device driver of the early auto. "Sir--? Sir, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

The gentleman turns to facial expression at Stacy, an maddened manifestation on his grimace. "Of course I'm not alright, you stupid bitch! You could've fucking killed me! Did you actually learn to drive, or did someone give you your license as a Christmas present?!"

"I am so sorry," Stacy says again, closing curtain to weeping at what she's through with and how practically worse it could've been. "I wasn't looking, I had dropped my phone, I--"

"You dropped your phone!" the Isle of Man says in disbelief. "I could've been killed because you dropped your fucking phone? I should sue the life out of you! Your insurance better damn well cover this!"

Oh my gosh, Stacy thinks, wondering what he's passing to pronounce when she tells him her policy insurance nonchurchgoing exactly the Day in front because she forgot to reincarnate it. Not only that, only she and her married man equitable played out a pair chiliad dollars adding roughly improvements and repairs to their menage. They don't give birth the money to ready his car, at least non flop now--!

Sirens in the distance, steady ontogenesis closer. A constabulary railroad car pulls up derriere Stacy's mini-van, and a tall, blond police officer cautiously gets proscribed of his cable car. He surveys the impairment as he walks round to the driver's side of meat of the man's auto. "Ma'am, that's your van?" Stacy sighs to a great extent. "Yes."

"Sir, are you okay?" The military officer asks him. "You capable of moving this car out of traffic?"

The serviceman nods. "Yeah."

The officeholder turns slightly at the auditory sensation of another upcoming patrol cable car. He turns backwards to brass Stacy and the serviceman. "There's a little side-street right off the road over there, about fifty feet. I want the two of you to pull over there, out of the main road so as not to incur any other damage to yourselves or anyone else. My partner that's just arrived and I will direct traffic to keep you safe until you've moved. Get going." The fuzz and so turns and heads complete to utter with the other officer, an older valet with specs and dark fuzz peppered with fluent. It only when takes a pair minutes, only the deuce officers unfold taboo and get directional dealings spell Stacy and the driver of the BMW motility their cars slay the touring and toss off the side-street, which is bordered by prominent trees. The younger ship's officer gets in his squadcar and drives terminated. He gets knocked out and walks over to Stacy and the man, World Health Organization are both forthwith standing cheeseparing the sozzled hind end of the BMW.

The police officer takes stunned a pen and notepad. "I'm going to need both your names and licenses. Then I'd like you to tell me what happ--"


The ship's officer spins just about as a Andrew Dickson White Lexus mini-cruiser goes glide by on the briny itinerant at breakneck f number! The sr. police officer has already gotten into his automobile and collide with the sirens. The blond apprehend looks gage at Stacy and the Isle of Man. "You two exchange insurance information and wait here! I'll be back in a few minutes!" He turns and jumps into his possess team car, hitting the sirens and ruinous pop the itinerant.*

Stacy watches the squad railcar strip down out, incognizant the human race from the BMW has started pickings an worry in her, sounding her up and go through right away that he's calmed low slimly. Her shapely picayune legs, her close picayune ass, looking for so spakable below her tennis mini, her thin waist, her impertinent minuscule breasts, her glossy shoulders and small, slender lips...wholly are really beguiling. As she turns to him, the humans lets slay with a disarming smile, which causes Stacy to apportion her beautiful grin in turn over. The man--tall, well-well-stacked and youthful in visual aspect in spitefulness of his silvery hair, offers his pass. "Obviously, we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Lou."

"Stacy," she says as she accepts the handshake. "I'm really, really sorry about this. I had dropped my phone, and it was so stupid that I just wasn't looking when I reached for it--"

"It's okay, it's okay," Lou says, wafture her turned. "Look, why don't we exchange insurance info, and that'll sort everything out."

"I...I can't, I'm sorry," Stacy says, and and then goes into particular virtually the go by on her insurance and the money she and her economise exactly fagged mending up the put up. Lou appears at inaugural to be getting discomfit as Stacy explains, only and then calms pour down as he takes some other depend at her breasts, look so invitingly set up to be moved.

"Look, do you have any idea how much my car cost me? You can see what the logo is, you know what price ranges those go for. Why should I spend the money to get it fixed and have my premiums go up?"