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The wine with the dinner was one (actually, two) of the highly praised Cote du Rhones of the night before. I pointed out all of its qualities to George. I even remembered two or three of the juicier anecdotes.We went to bed. There we devoted the rest of the night to another very satisfying tasting session. And to the expert nibbling of another excellent baguette. Home baked.Ah well, I may be bad. But I'm good.My next lover was Mr. Garfield.He was the one I didn't have sex with. I never even used his first name. To be totally correct, we never even met.He lives in California, where he owns quite a few vineyards. We were a client of his. His white wines especially became a featured highlight in our catalogue.Mr. Garfield hated meeting people.The two times we visited his lovely mansion, he apologized for not being able to see us. I understand he always does this. So I never came eye to eye with Mr. Garfield.I did see a few pictures. They were rather vintage, I guess. They also might have. "Strip." You go to hell."She said the words with far more conviction than she felt. There was no way out except through him. The door that he blocked was solid steel and not likely to be opened easily. Still, she had no intention of doing what he demanded of her."You can either do as I say, or I'll have your little friend brought down here to take your place. It's your choice."Camille wanted to kill him. He smirked at her, knowing he'd get his way, knowing she would do anything to keep him from hurting Lorette. She had never taken her clothes off for any man except the one she had married. The thought of undressing in front of this particular man made her want to puke."I'm waiting," he said, "and I grow impatient." I'll kill you, Gerhardt," she said softly, reaching up to the first button on her dress. "I'm going to cut your heart out."He crossed the room so quickly that she didn't have time to react before he backhanded her. She fell across the table next to her, her mind reeling as.
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