“Jake, help me get these two into the back of this van.”Boris took the arms and Jake took the legs of the guy in the driver’s seat. They half ca...ried, half dragged him to the back. Adult men are heavy and awkward to carry, Jake realized. They got the men moved but not before bumping them around pretty good.Boris got the keys from the pocket of one driver.“Jake, the key for this van is still in the ignition. Drive it back toward the cabins. Stop close to the snipers and pull it off the road. You. He had conquered strongholds, and scaled misty peaks, but this, this was different. Bzzt. It was all to much for him. "Sorry ladies, but the rocket is flying solo today. There just ain't enough of me to go around". Lan knew he couldn't last, but damned if he couldn't feel the sweet inside of at least one of those girls. Not wanting to be partial he closed his eyes and thrust with all his might. The feeling was, not unlike a cold sheet. But hell, Lan was doing it. Bzzt. Lan felt. A leather jacket, perhaps anticipating a cool climate, or perhaps just her style. Her hair. Her face. Just like the picture. And then she saw me. Our eyes met. Not the proverbial romantic moment, but a mutual smile of recognition. Of being pleasantly surprised that sometimes pictures don’t lie. The conversation was lovely. Just like our e-mails, but with her voice speaking them out loud. Her accent, to me sounding so exotic, and yet to her, my North American voice was equally accented. We. She was known for her chocolate roses, chocolate covered strawberries, carved honeydew melons, carved watermelons and all kinds of fancy garnishes. They were no expensive to buy, but time consuming to make. She had learned most of it on the internet, watching videos.Her banker had called the two of them in for a meeting. Joe couldn't make it. The handicap accessible van had been a government car for his use. All they had now was the old Volkswagen, Burt, a 1972 Beetle. She and her father had.
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