While the first take had been about as nice as he could have hoped for, the producer had Jenny run through it a couple more times, partly for the sake... of cutaways to different angles, and partly in case of technical problems, so there's be a backup. Well inside of an hour, he said, "Well, OK, that's a wrap for video."A still photographer had been working right along side the film crew, and he took Jenny aside for a few setups. He shot up a lot of film in a hurry, and would have been tempted to. That matched one of the keys, so he tried it, and the key turned easily, and the padlock came loose. Reg unhooked the padlock, but as he went to lift the lid, Sidra’s previous warning came to him, and instead he eased the lid up a fraction of an inch – about half a centimetre – and put his eye in position to see under the lid. His precaution proved valid, for further inside was a string or wire leading further inside from the closure. This implied a booby-trap device, so he sat back to consider. " She stood up, preparing to leave."Do you mind if I ask why?" he asked, getting out of the booth."I think you know why. I just can't reopen old wounds. It's been absolutely marvelous seeing you again, Gene, and I want you to promise you're going to keep your promise and stay in touch with me now. But as for the rest of them...they can all go to Hell!" Gene was surprised by the sudden look of anger, no, hatred, that had crossed Leslie's lovely features. What came next wasn't a shock...she. She pulled the laptop from her briefcase and sat it on the tiny table before leaning back, resting her exhausted eyes while it booted up. The dull shaking of the ferry as it gained speed rumbled throughout the metal deck and she unconsciously squirmed deeper into her seat. That was the thing Vickie enjoyed most about her watery commute, the relaxing, rhythmic, and secretly erotic vibrations of the massive engines pulsing throughout the steel-hulled ship. She reluctantly pulled the computer onto.
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