How dare he yell at her in front of the guys from the band. How dare he monitor her whereabouts all the time. It was stressing her out, and it had to ...top. She sighed looked down at the half-eaten gallon of ice cream. This wasn’t the answer either. She padded into the kitchen, looking up at the sock-covered camera in the corner with a frown. Abigail had half expected him to come back storming into the apartment for having covered all of them. The night was still young. Putting the ice cream. “Ash, what are you doing?”It ignored her question and left the brush in her lap, sitting vertically against her skirt and between her legs. She felt familiar with this position, blushing over what it meant, but couldn't place what that was. It moved her hands over her heart, tucking her wrists under her ample breasts. The contradiction it created was unwelcome: the pleasure of Ash’s touch was undeniable, yet the fear of where it was taking her seemed palpable.“I feel so weird,” she told. In the morning, she woke first and then got him up. He stumbled into the grass to get his bladder empty, and realized he felt pretty good. Breakfast was cold jerky and she was there to push on his ass as he stepped up into the saddle. It was so easy that he felt real hope for the first time since being shot.But he did not feel like he was taking this girl back to her people. He was quite sure, in fact, that if she’d just left him, she’d be back a day sooner. Of course he couldn’t know that for. Several minutes passed and I walked up to check on her. I asked from outside the door if she was okay. She answered she was, but I could tell she was crying. I pushed the door open. She was standing, but leaning over the toilet. Her blue pajama pants were wet and I asked what was wrong.She sniffled and said half crying, “ I just can’t throw up! I tried and I peed on myself. Dammit!”I rubbed her back and assured her it was ok. I said it was not a big deal and she could hop in for a nice hot.
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