Leaving Madeleine - Part 1
A man is strapping explosives to his body with the full intention of blowing himself and hundreds of innocent men, women, and children to eternity.
A boy in Africa is being forced to kill his parents and rape his sister.
While these things were happening, I was contemplating the stiffness of my erection as it moved in and out of Madeleine.
Madeleine's last name was Paquette. She was a Parisian woman of twenty-four. Her father was a Frenchman with direct lineage to the reign of terror, and her mother was an Iranian. Or, as she preferred to call herself, Persian.
Madeleine had inherited all the best features of her parents. She had dark skin and perfect ears like her mother. She was five feet, six inches tall and had retained her father's green eyes. She was one of those women that commanded a second look if you passed her on the street. Undeniably striking.
In addition to benefiting from her parents genetically, she was also the recipient of their immense wealth. I was never clear on where the money came from, only the fact that there was a lot of it. It bought her a large, two bedroom flat on Rue Quincampoix in the heart of Le Marais, a Peugeot convertible that spent most of the year in the garage, and a black Vespa that rarely got a rest. In short, she was rich. She was also kind, considerate, easy going, and apt at pleasing a man. She was everything you could want in a woman, but for whatever reason, that wasn't enough for me.
A boy in Africa is being forced to kill his parents and rape his sister.
While these things were happening, I was contemplating the stiffness of my erection as it moved in and out of Madeleine.
Madeleine's last name was Paquette. She was a Parisian woman of twenty-four. Her father was a Frenchman with direct lineage to the reign of terror, and her mother was an Iranian. Or, as she preferred to call herself, Persian.
Madeleine had inherited all the best features of her parents. She had dark skin and perfect ears like her mother. She was five feet, six inches tall and had retained her father's green eyes. She was one of those women that commanded a second look if you passed her on the street. Undeniably striking.
In addition to benefiting from her parents genetically, she was also the recipient of their immense wealth. I was never clear on where the money came from, only the fact that there was a lot of it. It bought her a large, two bedroom flat on Rue Quincampoix in the heart of Le Marais, a Peugeot convertible that spent most of the year in the garage, and a black Vespa that rarely got a rest. In short, she was rich. She was also kind, considerate, easy going, and apt at pleasing a man. She was everything you could want in a woman, but for whatever reason, that wasn't enough for me.
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