<font color=red>*A loan figure made its way down the beach, seeming to wander as if a little lost. She had come here to think, not sure why she had been drawn to the beach, but knowing she had to get out of the house where she feared for her life half of the time. Her frame was clad in low cut, tight leather pants, and a white blouse, only the two middle buttons buttoned. The wind tore at it, forcing it back to expose her flat, toned stomach. Her feet were bare, she'd left her shoes back at her car, wanting the feel of the sand beneath her feet.*</font> -- Realistic Dreams: The Present : The Beach

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Date Posted: 08:15:13 02/16/04 Mon
Author: Ariel
Subject: *A loan figure made its way down the beach, seeming to wander as if a little lost. She had come here to think, not sure why she had been drawn to the beach, but knowing she had to get out of the house where she feared for her life half of the time. Her frame was clad in low cut, tight leather pants, and a white blouse, only the two middle buttons buttoned. The wind tore at it, forcing it back to expose her flat, toned stomach. Her feet were bare, she'd left her shoes back at her car, wanting the feel of the sand beneath her feet.*
In reply to: Angelo 's message, "..." on 08:08:01 02/16/04 Mon

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He was so absorbed in his own silent reverie that he didn't see her coming up the beach - just let another sigh - he was pitiful, he knew - he'd never experienced rejection.. or persecution.. or oppression or any of that sort of thing - he'd been a very privileged man his entire life, and he supposed that was why he had never let Ariel shoot him down in the beginning, but persisted. (NT) -- Angelo, 08:19:39 02/16/04 Mon

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