Abby, Two
Copyright© 2019 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 36
When the air failed at home and the installer couldn’t get parts for a month ... we moved to the skate palace. Our home HVAC unit was manufactured 27 years ago in the United States, and it was cheaper to wait than install a new unit. A magnitude cheaper. The unit on the roof of the skate palace was just ten years old but had less tha 100 hours run time.
Mr. Make A. Bucksqueek wouldn’t spend the ready to replace the heatpump.
Mrs. Morris heard it through the bridge club that we were hiding out in the palace ... because ‘he’s too cheap to buy a new pump.’ She stopped to check. That’s how I know about the unit.
Mrs. Morris said, “Up until I stopped paying the ‘rates’ I started the air once a month ... just in case. Keeping the seals lubricated mostly.”
“Why?”
“Did I stop? Getting a little of my own back. Robert hated that I was awarded the building ... and his rates bills reflected that ‘his’ building was a ‘heat sink.’”
“What?”
“I got the building ... he got the bills.”
“That’s outrageous ... How did you get that decree?”
“It’s my money ... it was always my money. Every ‘adventure’ was my money. He had such grand plans,” she leaned a little closer. “He’s so ... pretty ... all the girls wanted him. There’s more to Robert Morris than pretty.” She held her hands about a foot apart.
“Oh ... OH!”
“A trumpet flare to go with it.”
I blushed. I’ve been tried ... just not that often. My experience with erotic shapes is limited.
Although ... I really like chordee (curved upwards) for scratching that itch. Chordee and flare would be ... personally ... tremendously satisfying. Chordee is ... fine.
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