that. Why would I? What would it

and probably some other e-words that I can't think of right now because m

once.

oftens just a fraction. "Go home, Hunter. Whateve

ning, there'll be a little less. A little less light, a little

ty days, there w

IA

/ˈmisˌfī

h doesn't coo

re gets torched to bits by a p

for the best, since my brain has decided to run a

that it sometimes likes to be, has scripte

ive minutes, tops. Deep in the throes of this REM cycle, though,

st, enhanced into ultra-crystal-clear 4K HD. Every curve of every muscle is there like br

s of an eagle, inked into skin that's tan an

e sick and my fantasies are sick (and probably also because I haven't experienced sexual contact sin

t you'd

e off of him, those fingers now nudge my hands down, down, down. Past the soft thickets of chest hair, past

e keep

s tempting my very innocent, very demure, very well-lotioned hands into perf

cks off-with my boss, no less-i

hich is frankly very rude. I ought to focus on that, not on the thick blue vei

the bathroom mirror, trying to memorize the exact shade of green in m

ugie bakery three blocks from the office that charges twelve dollars for a c

ign to Open. "Eliana!" His face lights up w

you get the

thinking of other "worms" it would like to get and I hav

and butter and a cinnamon-y sweetness that makes my stomach growl. Just like that, I'

ut that? That's a lot of

to inhale sugar? Secondly, it's not for me. Well,

in Chicago, plus a small army of sous chefs, stagiaires, dishwashers, prep staff, and more, all working around t

menus back to the drawing board with scathing comments. He's taken to just scrawling NGE across the top in huge, red le

as he reaches for boxes to start loading me up with

ies. Chicago dawn catches the glaze on a row of kouign-amann. The d

ographic for a sweet

e're getting close to the Project Olympus launch. He's a sadist, I th

Project Olympus finally on the near horizon

percolating in my head as I tossed an

t to taste everything, see everything, experience everything while I still can. And if

lling two birds

uilding, juggling a trio of pastry boxes and a tray of coffees. The security gu

nter, l

ove myself wrong by nearly dropping the c

ay with a grin.

d you

before 6 A.M. Plus, Chef Rubio texted me th

I hear