” But there is no sleep when men must weep, Who never yet have wept: So we– the fool, the fraud, the knave– That endless vigil kept, And through each brain on hands of pain, Another’s terror crept.
“Alas! it is a fearful thing To feel another’s guilt! For, right within, the Sword of Sin, Pierced to its poisoned hilt, And as molten lead were the tears we shed For the blood we had not spilt.”
H-E was a beauty, and an Amazonian, and she could have if she had so chosen, kick ass.
You can imagine this. She’s up there in one of the many bedrooms inside 9 East 71st Street, which has forty rooms, not all bedrooms, but some are. H-E was never unaware of her surroundings, her environment, her own mood, her intuitions. A guy six foot four, oh, though he claims 220 pounds, H-E counterclaims 320.
320 stone.
320 rock.
Mannahattas has experienced nineteen earthquakes of two point four or greater, but this one, with its epicenter at 9 East 71st Street — was off the richter scale, especially the richter scale of ugly, obese, obnoxious, and gross.
Yet H-E held to her presence of mind, and as we have explained, kept in touch with her environment, moods and intuitions.
The 6’4″ guy tried to grope H-E’s pussy. As this guy would explain later, H-E wanted her to do this. Plus, he found her inside good old 9 East 71st Street, where they all counted as fair game, and fresh meat. Fresh meat, but tenderized fresh meat. Fresh meat had to be beaten to a pulp while still being fresh meat — at 9 East 71st Street…. 9 East Easy 71st Street. Easy meat to beat and meet. Meet and greet on a beating meet. This 6’4″ sack of shit had the audacity to upgrade himself to meat, thus his self image was he was a sack of meat.
H-E wasn’t a sack of shit, nor a sack of meat. She didn’t want a sack of shit upgrading, through triumph of the will, into sack of meat, and then, thinking she wanted it, needed it, and would be upgraded by it, slapping his faux hamburger patty pat into where she sat. Her lap. She sat with propriety…
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