Belonging To Ms. Cherry

The Swiss have their chocolate and groups of rich girls worse than mag pies never quite full of chatter like prey on their hunting grounds. Looking at me as I turned red are ripe Cherry's sitting down quite as a mouse over hearing them chat about grass. Old men gathered around catering uninformed all were beautiful as only youth can a careless way young bitches can be mindless rich spoiled girls. In her early 40s she's met by a modest swarm of them in the warm wooden entrance wearing a tight navy blue pressured above the skirt a red tie underneath the moderate, Pearl White neclace sprayed across her fanned chest silk collard blouse, knee length and pointed black high heels shoes. To meet you, I am happy, ' she said, my name is Lucky said I, her name tag read Ms. Cherry.