"Twelve o'clock at the farm house, slave." When Brenda read it she could hardly breathe. Since then the day had been a blur. After dropping the kids at school, Brenda went home to get ready. She started with a hot bubble bath, taking her time to carefully shave, everywhere. Since their first meeting he had been very specific about that. Brenda made sure her make up was just right and did her shoulder length chestnut hair in a very simple pony tail as was his preference. Then she dressed with. “Great to finally meet you!” he said. “We’ve both been looking forward to this for a long time.” He reached down and played with the hard package that was bulging through his chino trousers. Dean was slender, slightly balding, with piercing blue eyes and stood about 6’. “I took the liberty of ordering from room service…are you hungry?” he asked gesturing towards a small table filled with food. “Starved,” I said. Which was true in more ways than one. I tend to forget about eating while I’m. However, it turned out Alan was weak willed. He might have been 6 feet 6 inches tall, but Brenda left him standing, when it came to who made the decisions, Brenda was in charge of that department. Brenda and I chatted on line. Sometimes Brenda`s mood was good. She would admit she liked me and had liked meeting me. I told her she wouldn`t be able to travel without Alan`s approval, but she disagreed and said she did what she wanted. Brenda was going to find out that she wasn`t the only one that. Two women on the Malibu side sprinted for their lives across the sand. I fired five shots in quick succession at their backs and their bodies tumbled along the ground. I could see streaks of blood below their shoulder blades when they finally lay still in grotesque positions.One woman nearly made it to the water when I shot her in the back. She went face down in the surf with blood running out her half open mouth. I watched her body roll back and forth in the waves as she twisted and turned in.
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