This was no time for fantasy and self-pleasure. This was the first night of the rest of my life, and I was setting things aright. I walked to the dres...er and opened the bottom drawer, steeling myself for the moment of decision. Digging to the bottom I pulled them out. My skinny jeans. It had been years since I'd worn them, and longer still since they'd been comfortable on me. The fucking loveless bastard hated them, told me I couldn't wear them. Said I looked like trash in them. Perfect. I'd. Within days of being at his side, she began to worship him. A couple weeks later, she was bunking with him. Her words now came faster, hurried, urgent. ‘Sir, there are so many dead, they are all over the beach, I gathered as many supplies from the boat as I could, I got a hold of a gun, a couple swords, a whip, and have the surviving slaves gathering crates from the water, but there’s too many of them, and they might try to mutiny…’ ‘Slaves aren’t crew. They are cargo, cargo can’t mutiny.’. More

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