Also, who the hell are you?” Mumtaz was trying to be rude.“The man who did this to you!” came a reply with the same photo he took yesterday. Mum...az resting on the table with her breasts popping out and skirt pulled up till her waist, exposing all of her pussy.“Don’t even try to blackmail me!” Mumtaz replied, infuriated.“No, never. Just showing you this. Trust me, I won’t leak this! Come to the gent’s washroom, you won’t regret this. I have a gift for you,” came another reply.“Please, no! Maybe. It'll go away, I tellmyself. Whoever it is will just go away. I slip off to sleep again.Again, the doorbell wakes me up. "Mr. White?" a male voice calls fromthe other side. "Mr. White? I've been sent to collect you." He ringsthe doorbell again. On shaky legs I gather my strength to stand bypulling up on the countertop. The phone falls with a clunk as I use allof my strength to stand. A retched rot is eating away at my gutsignaling a warning to find a receptacle quickly. If my mind. The hand massaging my breast stopped to go under my shirt and feel smooth skin and play with a hardened nipple.It wasn't long before he tried to take my shirt off and I finally spoke up, "Rob, stop!" I said hurriedly."Why what’s wrong baby," he asked wondering if he had upset me in some way."Scars, I have too many scars. I'm ugly." I said breathlessly. I didn't want him to see my scars; they were everywhere, just the result of 11 months of hell."Baby, you're beautiful to me. No scar could ever. .. "Mr. Masini yelled "SHUT UP," to everybody around us and told us to sing some more. I started the second verse.We were stopped and told to come back in one week, with two songs prepared."Sir, Mr. Masini—we only have music with the original singer on it, where would we find them without vocal tracks?" Give me a list of the songs you know and I will do whatever I can for you—I think you two could do very well on this show—you're cute and you sing well, both individually and together. Practice.
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