Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. But she veiled her feelings. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. Until Leonardo. “They are coming past our table. I was in hopes you'd be content with my hat and wig. “I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee, but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMy4xMjIuMTUgLSAxOS0wNS0yMDI0IDE3OjMzOjI0IC0gMTAxNDIwNzgzNw==
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