“Ah, I see what’s going on. They must dock your pay every time you say something, right? You know, I get it. You have mouths to feed, probably. How many kids do you have? Wait, wait, let me guess, that will be more fun. Hmm.” I tap my chin. “I’m going to say ten. You look like the kind of man with strong lovemaking genes. Like a workhorse in bed, pounding that semen, one right after the other, having that wife pop them out—” “Miss Campbell,” comes the silky, English voice from earlier. I turn to see Mr. Mysterious standing behind me, still wearing the black pants and button-up shirt from
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