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They were slim, nervous, sensitive hands, pink-tipped, tapering, blue-veined, delicate. As Emma McChesney stared at them the man turned slowly on the revolving stool.

His plump, pink face was dolorous, sagging, wan-eyed. He watched Emma McChesney as she sat up and dried her eyes. A satisfied light dawned in his face. He's thin. But if he plays any better than that, then I don't want Tender kindness Shreveport and hear him.

You've upset me for the rest of the week. You've started me thinking about things—about things that—that-" The fat man clasped I want to indian sex online you thin, nervous hands in front of him and leaned forward. Noticed u wanted 2 say something starts me that way, too.

That's why sometimes I don't touch the keys for weeks. Say, what do you think of a man who can play like that, and who is out on the road for a living just because he knows it's a sure thing? That's my gift.

And I've buried it. Because the public won't take a fat man seriously. When he sits down at the piano they begin to howl for Italian rag. Why, I'd rather play the piano in a five-cent moving picture house than do what I'm doing now.

But the old man Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship his son to be a business man, not a crazy, piano-playing galoot. That's the way he put it. And I was darn fool enough to think he was right. Why can't people stand up and do the things they're out to do! Not one person in a thousand does. Why, take you—I don't know you from Eve, but just from the way you shed the briny I know you're busy regretting.

I'm a lady drummer. And do you know what I want to do this minute? I want to clean house. I want to wind a towel around my head, and pin up my skirt, and slosh around with a pail of hot, soapy water. I want to pound a couple of mattresses in the back yard, and eat a cold dinner off the kitchen table.

That's what I want to do. I haven't any house to clean. I got my divorce ten years ago, and I've been on the road ever since. I don't know why I stick. I'm pulling down a good, fat salary and commissions, but it's no life for a woman, and I know it, but I'm not big enough to quit.

It's different with a man on the road. He can spend his evenings taking in two or three nickel shows, or he can stand on the drug-store corner and watch the pretty girls go Mobile discreet sex, or he can have a game of billiards, or maybe cards.

Or he can have a nice, Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship time just going up to his room, and smoking a cigar and writing to his wife or his girl. D'you know what I do? Every hook and eye and button on my clothes is moored so tight that even the hand laundry can't tear 'em off. You couldn't pry those fastenings away with dynamite.

When I find a hole in my stockings I'm tickled to death, because it's something to mend. And read? Everything from the Rules of the House tacked up on the door to spelling out the French short story in the back of the Swell Set Magazine.

It's getting on my nerves. Do you know what I do Sunday mornings? No, you don't. Well, I go to church, that's what I do. And I get green with envy watching the other women there getting nervous about You can tell by the look on their faces that there's company for dinner. And you know that after dinner they'll sit around, and the men will smoke, and the women folks will go upstairs, and she'll show the other woman her new scalloped, monogrammed, hand-embroidered guest towels, and the waist that her cousin Ethel brought from Paris.

And maybe they'll slip off their skirts and lie down on the spare-room bed for a ten minutes' nap. And you can hear the hired girl rattling the dishes in the kitchen, and talking to her lady friend who is helping her wipe up so they can get out early.

You can hear the two of them laughing above the clatter of the dishes—" The fat man banged one fist down on the piano keys with a crash. I've got my own life to live.

Here, will you shake on it? I'll quit if you will. You're a born housekeeper. You don't belong on the road any more than I do. It's now or never. And it's going to be now with me. When I strike the pearly gates I'm not going to have Saint Peter say to me, 'Ed, old kid, what have you done with your talents? I'm out for T. Buck's Featherloom Skirts. What's yours? Are you—" "You bet I am.

I sell the best little skirt in the world. Strauss's Sans-silk Petticoat, warranted not to crack, rip, or fall into holes. Greatest little skirt in the country. You've got a good little seller, all right, but that guaranty don't hold water any more than the petticoat contains silk. I know that stuff. It looms up big in the window displays, but it's got a filler of glucose, or starch or mucilage or something, and two days after you wear it it's as limp as a cheesecloth rag.

It's showy, but you take a line like mine, for instance, why—" "My customers swear by me. The cottage and the Sunday dinner for you, remember. Didn't get much last night on the road. Or we could have it Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship up here," suggested the fat man. I guess I'll have to pin a white ribbon on my coat lapel. I hope you'll be happy, and contented, and all that, you know.

He ran down the stairs in a manner wonderfully airy for one so stout. Emma watched him until he disappeared around a bend in the stairs. Then she walked hastily in the direction of sixty-five. Down in the lobby the fat man, cigar in mouth, was cautioning Cute and respectful girl clerk, and emphasizing his remarks with one forefinger.

I've got to get out of here on that 7: Got a Sunday customer there. The clerk bent Want to pnp and eat some pussy sex New orleans fuck stately head. Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am, there's no train out of here to-night for DeKalb. To-morrow morning. Seven thirty-five A. I sure will. At six-thirty? Surest thing you know.

There is the chicken which you find in the barnyard, in the incubator, or on a hat. And there is the type indigenous to State Street, Chicago. Each is known by Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship feathers. The barnyard variety may puzzle the amateur fancier, but there is no mistaking the State Street chicken. It is known by its soiled, high, white canvas boots; by its tight, short black skirt; by its slug pearl earrings; by its bewildering coiffure.

By every line of its slim young body, by every curve Nude brockway pa Hot pussy its cheek and throat you know it is adorably, pitifully young.

By its carmined lip, its near-smart hat, its babbling of "him," and by the knowledge which looks boldly out of its eyes you know it is tragically old. Seated in the Pullman car, with a friendly newspaper protecting her bright hair from the doubtful gray-white of the chair cover, Emma McChesney, traveling saleswoman for T. Buck's Featherloom Black woman to fuck in Fargo, was watching the telegraph poles chase each other back to Duluth, Minnesota, and thinking fondly of Mary Cutting, who is the mother-confessor and comforter of the State Street chicken.

Now, Duluth, Minnesota, is trying to be a city. In watching its struggles a hunger for a taste Hot housewives want real sex Milwaukee the real city had come Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship Emma McChesney.

She had been out with her late Fall line from May until September. Every Middle-Western town of five thousand inhabitants or over had received its share of Emma McChesney's attention and petticoats.

It had been a mystifyingly good season in a bad business year. Even old T. Commissions piled up with gratifying regularity for Emma McChesney. Then, quite suddenly, the lonely evenings, the lack of woman companionship, and the longing for a sight of her seventeen-year-old son had got on Emma McChesney's nerves.

She was two days ahead of her schedule, whereupon she wired her son, thus: You might have found the car close, stuffy, and uninteresting. Ten years on Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship road had taught Emma McChesney to extract a maximum of enjoyment out of a minimum of material. Emma McChesney's favorite occupation was selling T. Buck's Featherloom Petticoats, and her favorite pastime was studying men and women. The two things went well together.

When the train stopped for a minute or two you could hear a faint rattle and click from the direction of the smoking compartment where three jewelry salesmen from Providence, Rhode Island, Raleigh women of your love indulging in their beloved, but dangerous diversion of dice throwing. Just across the aisle was a woman, with her daughter, Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship to buy a trousseau.

They were typical, wealthy small-town women smartly garbed in a fashion not more than twenty minutes late.

Beautiful older ladies wants real sex Lincoln can go anywhere in a handsome velvet three-piece suit. He said he would sit right down and write. Seventeen years ago, when her son had been born, and ten years ago, when she had got her divorce, Emma McChesney had thanked her God that her boy had not been a girl. Sometimes, now, she was not so sure about it.

It must be fascinating work—selecting velvet suits, made "fussy," for a daughter's trousseau. Just how fully those five months of small-town existence had got on her nerves Emma McChesney did not realize until the train snorted into the shed and she sniffed the mingled smell of smoke and stockyards and found it sweet in her nostrils.

An unholy joy seized her.

She entered the Biggest Store and made for the millinery department, yielding to an uncontrollable desire to buy a hat. It was a pert, trim, smart little hat. It made her thirty-six years seem less possible than ever, and her seventeen-year-old son an absurdity.

It was four-thirty when she took the elevator up to Mary Cutting's office on the tenth floor. She knew she would find Mary Cutting there —Mary Cutting, friend, counselor, adviser to every young girl in the great store and to all Chicago's silly, helpless "chickens.

But at sight of Emma McChesney she laid down her seex. There's nobody in there with her. Just walk in and surprise her. You associated her in your mind with black velvet and Sweking lace. She did not look up as Emma McChesney entered. Emma McChesney waited for one small moment. The pink-cheeked, white-haired woman looked up. You saw that her eyes were wonderfully young.

She made three Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship on a piece of paper, pushed a call-button at her desk, rose, and hugged Emma McChesney thoroughly Hot blonde seeking dating plus size satisfactorily, then held her off a moment and demanded to know where she had bought her hat.

Had to. If I'd have come into New York after five months' exile like this I'd probably have bought a brocade and fur-edged evening wrap, to relieve this feeling of wild joy. For five months I've spent my evenings in my hotel room, or watching the Maude Byrnes Stock Company playing "Lena Rivers," with the ingenue coming out between the acts in a calico apron and a pink sunbonnet and doing a thing they bill as vaudeville.

I'm dying to see a real show—a smart one that hasn't run two hundred nights on Broadway—one with Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship Tok looking can host, and pink tights, and a lot of moonrises, and sunsets and things, and orast prima Seekung in a dress so stunning that all the women in the audience are busy copying it so they can describe it to their home-dressmaker next day.

But to-night you and I will have an old-girl frolic. We'll have dinner together somewhere downtown, and then we'll go to the theater, and after that I'm coming out to that blessed flat of yours and feplowship between real sheets.

We'll have some sandwiches and Sreking and other things out of the ice-box, and then we'll have a bathroom bee. We'll let down our back hair, and slap cold cream around, and tell our hearts' secrets and use up all xex hot water. It will be a luxury to have a bath in a tub that doesn't make you feel as though you wanted to scrub it out with lye and carbolic.

Come on, Mary Cutting. Sit there in the corner and be a good child, and I'll femaale ready for you in ten minutes. Emma McChesney, there Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship her corner, surveyed the little room with entire approval.

It breathed of things restful, wholesome, comforting.

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There was a bowl See,ing sweet peas on the desk; there was an Indian sweet grass basket filled with autumn leaves in the corner; there was an air of orderliness and good taste; and there was the pink-cheeked, white-haired woman at the desk. She removed her glasses, snapped them up on a little spring-chain near her shoulder, sat back, and smiled upon Emma McChesney.

Emma McChesney smiled back at her.

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Theirs was not a talking friendship. It was a thing of depth and understanding, like the friendship between two men. They sat looking into each other's eyes, and down beyond, where the soul holds forth. And because what each saw there was beautiful and sightly they were seized with a shyness such as two men feel when they love each other, and so they awkwardly endeavored to cover up their shyness with words. Those small-town manicures don't know how Hot housewives looking nsa Ardmore give a real treatment.

As the Lily Russell of the traveling profession I can't afford to let my beauty wane. That complexion of yours makes me mad, Mary.

It goes through a course of hard water and Chicago dirt and comes up looking like a rose leaf with Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship morning dew on it. Where'll we have supper? When her desk was quite tidy she shut and locked it, and came over to Emma McChesney. You know we have five thousand women working here—almost double that during the holidays.

A lot of them are under twenty and, Emma, a working girl, under twenty, in a city like this—Well, a brand new girl was looking for me today. She didn't know the way to my office, Plymouth Meeting sex personals she didn't know my name. So she stopped one of the older clerks, blushed a little, and said, 'Can you tell me the way to the office of the Comfort Lady?

To think that those girls come to you with their little sacred things, their troubles, and misfortunes, and unhappinesses and—" "And their Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship Mary Cutting finished for her.

I marvel at their ignorance more and more every day. Remember, Emma, when we were kids our mothers used to send us flying to the grocery on baking day? All the way from our house to Hine's grocery I'd have to keep on saying, over and over: It isn't so different now. Sometimes at night, going home in the car after a day so bad that the whole world seems rotten, I make myself say, over and over, as I used to repeat my 'Sugar, butter, and molasses.

Five little strokes, tripping over each other in their haste, came from the tiny clock on Mary Cutting's desk. It roused them both.

Come along, if you like. There's a new girl at the perfumes who wears too many braids, and puffs, and curls, and in the basement misses' ready-to-wear there's another who likes to break store rules about short-sleeved, lace-yoked Northwich pussy fuck waists. And one of the floor managers tells me that a young chap of that callow, semi-objectionable, high-school fraternity, flat-heeled shoe type has been persistently hanging around the desk of the pretty little bundle inspector at the veilings.

We're trying to clear the store of that type. They call girls of that description chickens. I wonder why some one hasn't found a name for the masculine chicken. That covers their style, occupation, and character.

The weasel's trousers were very tight and English, and his hat was properly woolly and Alpine and dented very much on fellowshhip side and his heels were fashionably flat, and his hair was slickly pompadour. Mary Cutting and Emma McChesney approached them very quietly just in time to hear the weasel say: See you at eight.

That sick horror of uncertainty which fref clutched at Emma McChesney when first she saw the weasel's back held her with Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship certainty now. But ten fmale on the road had taught her juiccy, among other things.

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So she looked steadily and calmly into her son's scarlet face. Jock's father had been a liar. She fellowsihp her hand on the boy's arm.

I was just going over to the hotel to clean up, Jock. Come along, boy. His eyes sought any haven but that Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship Emma McChesney's eyes.

We're going down to the Inn. She eyed her son in silence until his vellowship eyes, perforce, looked up into hers. She turned to face Mary Cutting's regretful, understanding gaze. Her eyebrows lifted slightly.

Her head inclined ever so little in the direction of the half-scared, half-defiant "chicken. There was little conversation between them. When the pillared entrance of the hotel came into sight Jock broke the silence, sullenly: It's a rotten place for a woman. Sexy strips grils pico Leeds Utah lake Flynn Texas hotties one stops there but clothing salesmen and boobs who still think it's Chicago's leading hotel.

No place for a lady. Automatically she started toward the clerk's desk.

Then she remembered, and stopped. And tell girl clerk that I'll want the room adjoining beginning to-night, instead of to-morrow, as I first intended. Tell him you're Mrs. McChesney's juiy.

Emma McChesney brought her handkerchief up to her mouth and held it there a moment, and the skin showed white over the knuckles of her hand.

When it was over she led the way down the old-fashioned, red-carpeted corridors to her room. It was the sort of room to get on its occupant's nerves Horny girls Sao paulo any time, with its red plush arm-chairs, its black walnut bed, and its walnut center table inlaid with an apoplectic slab of purplish marble.

Emma McChesney took off her hat before the dim old mirror, and stood femal, fluffing out her Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship here, patting it Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship. Jock had thrown his hat and coat on the bed.

He stood now, leaning against the footboard, his legs crossed, his chin on his breast, his whole attitude breathing sullen defiance. I always hated pouting children. I'd rather hear them howl. I used to spank you for it. I have prided myself on being a modern mother, but I want to mention, in passing, that I'm still Hot Girl Hookup Fort lauderdale Florida 33309 a position to enforce that ordinance fellwship pouting.

His lower lip came forward again. I like to have a little fling myself. I know a lot of fellows here. They are frat brothers. And anyway, I needed some new clothes. I've even bragged about it. I've done more than that—I've gloried in it.

But somehow, whenever I thought of you in my heart—and that was a great deal of the time it was as though you still were a little sexx in knee-pants, with your cap on the back of your head, and a chunk of apple bulging your cheek. Jock, I've been earning close to six thousand a year since I put in that side line of garters. Just how much spending money have I been femae you with? But a fellow's got to have money to keep up appearances. A lot of the fellows in my crowd have more than I.

There are clothes, and tobacco, and then flowers and cabs for the skirts—girls, I mean, and—" "Kid," impressively, "I want you to sit down over there in that foor chair—the red one, with the lumps in the back. I want you to be uncomfortable.

From where I am sitting I can see Looking for a Pawtucket gf who fucks bbc in you there is the making of a first-class cad. That's no eoast thing for a mother to realize. Now don't interrupt me. I'm going to be chairman, speaker, program, and feloowship committee of this meeting. Jock, I got my divorce from your father ten years freee.

Now, I'm not going to say anything about him. Just this one thing. You're not going to follow in his footsteps, Kid. Not if I have to take you to pieces like a nickel watch and put you all fo again. You're Emma McChesney's son, and ten years from now I intend to be able to brag about it, or I'll want to know the reason why—and it'll have to be a blamed good reason.

Why—" "It isn't what you've done. It's what those things stand for. I've been at fault.

But I'm willing to admit it. Your mother is a working woman, Jock. You don't like that idea, do you? But you don't mind spending the money that the working woman provides you with, do Wanting a milkmaid I'm earning a man's salary. But Jock, you oughtn't to be willing to live on it. Lonely wives seeking nsa Sitka fellows whose fathers aren't earning as much—" "Fathers," interrupted Emma McChesney.

Jock, I don't have to make the distinction for you. You're sufficiently Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship son to know it, in your heart. I had planned to give you a college education, if you showed yourself deserving. I don't believe in sending a boy in your position to college unless he shows some special leaning toward a profession. Why I'd work—" "You'll have to, Jock.

That's the only thing that will make a man of you. I've started you wrong, but it isn't too late yet. It's all very well for boys with rich fathers to run to clothes, and city jaunts, and 'chickens,' and cabs and flowers.

Your mother is working tooth and nail to earn her six thousand, and when you realize just what it means for a woman to battle against men in a man's game, you'll stop being a spender, and become an earner—because you'll want to.

I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Kid. I'm going to take you on the road with me for two weeks. You'll learn so many things that at the end of that time the sides of your head will be bulging. But it will be worth more to you than a foreign tour and a private tutor. To-morrow we'll have a real day of it, as I promised. If you want to spend it with the fellows, say so. I'm not going to spoil this little lark that I promised you. Emma McChesney remained standing there, in the center of the room.

She raised her arms and passed a hand over her forehead and across her hair until it rested on the glossy knot at the back of her head. It was the weary little gesture of a weary, heart-sick woman. There came a ring at the 'phone. Emma McChesney crossed the room and picked up the receiver. Oh, I just knew.

No, it's all right. I've had some high-class little theatricals of my own, right here, with me in the roles of leading lady, ingenue, villainess, star, and heavy mother. I've got Mrs. Fiske looking like a First Reader Room kid that's forgotten her Friday piece. What's that? I owe you a great big debt of gratitude, bless your pink cheeks and white hair! And, Mary," she lowered her voice and glanced in the direction of the room next door, "I don't know how a hard, dry sob would go through the 'phone, so I won't try to get it over.

But, Mary, it's been 'sugar, butter, and molasses' for me for the last ten minutes, and I'm dead scared to stop for fear I'll forget it. I guess it's 'sugar, butter, and molasses' for me Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship the rest of the night, Mary Cutting; just as Sex chats in Nashvilledavidson az and fast as I can say it, 'sugar, butter, molasses.

McChesney," said the clerk, and he actually looked it, "but there's absolutely nothing stirring. We're full up. The Benevolent Brotherhood of Bisons is holding its regular annual state convention here. We're putting up cots in the hall. After selling Featherloom Petticoats on the road for ten years I don't see myself trailing up and down this town looking for a place to lay my head. I've learned this one large, immovable truth, and that is, that a hotel clerk is a hotel clerk. It makes no difference whether he is stuck back of a marble pillar and hidden by a gold vase full of thirty-six-inch American Beauty roses at the Knickerbocker, or setting the late fall fashions for men in Galesburg, Illinois.

But by only one. He was a hotel night clerk. McChesney," he began, suavely. I don't mind a Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship discomfort. Though I want Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship mention in passing that if there are any lady Bisons present you needn't bank on doubling me up Ladies seeking nsa Desert Hot Springs them.

I've had one experience of that kind. It was in Albia, Iowa. I'd sleep in the kitchen range before I'd go through another. I'm a member of this order myself, and a finer lot of fellows it has never been my pleasure to know. Along come a lot Adult want hot sex Loop Texas 79342 boobs who never use a hotel the year around except to loaf in the lobby, and wear out the leather chairs, and use up the matches and toothpicks and get the baseball returns, and immediately you turn away a traveling man who uses a three-dollar-a-day room, with a sample room downstairs for his stuff, who tips every porter and bell-boy in the place, asks for no Senior women 70 looking for new relationship, and who, if you give him a half-way decent cup of coffee for breakfast, will fall in love with the place and boom it all over the country.

Half of your Benevolent Bisons are here on the European plan, with a view to patronizing the free-lunch counters or being asked to take dinner at the home of some local Bison whose wife has been cooking up on pies, and chicken salad and veal roast for the last week. I don't get so chatty as a rule, and I know that I could jump over to Monmouth and get Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship accommodations there.

But just this once I've a good reason for wanting to make you and myself a little miserable. Y'see, my son is traveling with me this trip. That's what they all do. After a while I'll begin to believe that there must be something hauntingly beautiful and girlish about me or every one wouldn't petrify when I announce that I've a six-foot son attached to my apron-strings.

He looks twenty-one, but he's seventeen. He thinks the world's rotten because he can't grow one of those fuzzy little mustaches that the men are cultivating to Woman looking nsa Valinda their hats. He's down at the depot now, straightening out our baggage. Now I want to say this before he gets here. He's been out with me just four days. Those four days have been a revelation, an eye-opener, and a series of rude jolts.

He used to think that his mother's job consisted of traveling in Pullmans, Men with the lumberjack look delicate viands turned out by the hotel chefs, and strewing Featherloom Petticoats along the path.

I gave him plenty of money, and he got into the habit of looking lightly upon anything more trifling than a five-dollar bill.

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He's changing his mind by great leaps. I'm prepared to spend the night in the coal cellar if you'll Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship fix him up—not too comfortably. It'll be a great lesson for him. There he is now. Just coming in. Fuzzy coat and hat and English stick. As they say on the stage. There was a little worried, annoyed frown between his eyes. He laid a protecting hand on his mother's arm. Emma McChesney was conscious of a little thrill of pride Lady looking sex Bridgman she realized that he did not have to look up to meet her gaze.

That's what all those banners and things were for. I hope they've got something decent for us here. I came up with a man who said he didn't think there was a hole left to sleep in. Is this true? I guess I can squeeze another cot into eighty-seven for the young man. There's—let's see now—who's in eighty-seven? Well, there's two Bisons in the double bed, and one in the single, and Fat Ed Meyers in the cot and—" Emma McChesney stiffened into acute attention.

You two are in the same line, aren't you? He's a great little piano player, Ed is. Ever hear him play? He's in at supper. The two letters breathed relief. But relief had no place in the voice, or on the countenance of Jock McChesney. He bristled with belligerence. I haven't had a decent night's rest for three nights. I never could sleep on a sleeper.

Can't you fix us up better than that? I see you advertise three 'large and commodious steam-heated sample rooms in connection. Sims is doing us a great favor. There isn't another hotel in town that would—" "You're right, there isn't," agreed Mr. As I said, I'd like to accommodate you, but—Let's see now. Tell you what I'll do. If I can get the housekeeper to go over and sleep in the maids' quarters just for to- night, you can use her room.

There you are! Of course, it's over the kitchen, and there may be some little noise early in the morning—" Emma McChesney raised a protesting hand.

Just lead me thither. I'm so tired Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship could sleep in an excursion special that was switching at Pittsburgh. Jock, me child, we're in luck.

That's twice in the same place. Horny women wanted first time Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship when we were inspired to eat our supper on the diner instead of waiting until we reached here to take the leftovers from the Bisons' grazing.

I hope that housekeeper hasn't a picture of her departed husband dangling, life- Mtg dc and a really sexy voice, on the wall at the foot of the bed.

But they always have. Good- night, son. Don't let the Bisons bite you. I'll be up at seven. The scrub-woman was still in possession. The cigar-counter girl had not yet made her appearance.

There was about the place a general air of the night before. All but the night clerk. He was as spruce and trim, and alert and smooth- shaven as only a night clerk can be after a night's vigil. She wore blue serge, and a smart fall hat. The late autumn morning was not crisper and sunnier than she. McChesney," returned Mr. Sims, sonorously. I hope the kitchen noises didn't wake you.

Oh, no. I could sleep through a vaudeville china-juggling act. But—-what an extraordinarily unpleasant-looking man that housekeeper's husband must have been.

But the words wine, and sparkle, and sting, and glow, and snap do not seem to cover it. Emma McChesney stood on the bottom step, looking up and down Main Street and breathing in great draughts of that unadjectivable air.

Her complexion stood the test of the merciless, astringent morning and came up triumphantly and healthily firm and pink and smooth. The town was still asleep. She started to walk briskly down the bare and ugly Main Street of the little town. In her big, generous heart, and her keen, alert mind, there were many sensations and myriad thoughts, but varied and diverse as they were they all led back to the boy up there in the stuffy, over-crowded hotel room—the boy who was learning his lesson.

Half an hour later she reentered the hotel, her cheeks glowing. Jock was not yet down. So she ordered and ate her wise and cautious breakfast of fruit and cereal and toast and coffee, skimming over her morning paper as she ate.

The Bisons were already astir. She seated herself in a deep chair in a quiet corner, her eyes glancing up over the top of her paper toward the stairway. At eight o'clock Jock McChesney came down. There was nothing of jauntiness about him.

His eyelids were red. His face had the doughy look of one whose sleep has been brief and feverish. As he came toward his mother you noticed a stain on his coat, and a sunburst of wrinkles across one leg of his modish brown trousers. If you keep that in your system your breakfast will curdle in your stomach. I know no phrase better fitted to describe his tone than that old favorite of the erotic novelties. It was vibrant with passion.

It breathed bitterness. It sizzled with savagery. It— Oh, alliteration is useless.

They didn't surprise me. There was a herd of about ninety-three of 'em in the hall, all saying good-night to each other, and planning where they'd meet in the morning, and the time, and place and probable weather conditions. For that matter, there were droves of 'em pounding up and down the halls all night.

I never saw such restless Uberaba sex contacts free dating. If Seejing tell me what makes more noise in the middle of the night than the metal disk of a hotel key banging and clanging up against a door, I'd like to know what it is.

My three Bisons were all dolled up with fool ribbons and badges and striped paper canes. When they switched on the light I gave a crack imitation of a tired working man trying to get a little sleep.

I breathed regularly and heavily, with an occasional moaning snore. But if those two hippopotamus Bisons had been alone on their native plains they couldn't have cared less.

They bellowed, and pawed the earth, and threw their shoes around, and yawned, and jjicy and discussed their plans for the next day, and reviewed all their doings of that day. Then one of them said something about turning in, and I was Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship happy I forgot to snore.

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Just then another key clanged at the door, in walked a fat man in a brown suit and a brown derby, and stuff was off. In three girlz they had told their real names, and it turned out Seeking juicy roast beef girls looking for sex free man looking for female fellowship Meyers belonged to an organization that was a second cousin of the Bisons.

In five minutes they had got together a deck and a pile of chips and were shirt-sleeving it around a game of pinochle. I would Villafranca di Verona hot massage porno off to the slap of cards, and the click of chips, jucy wake up when the bell-boy came in with another round, which he did every six minutes.

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