Lucid Chpt 1

8/2/2019 Lucid Chpt 1

1/21

LUCIDlucid adj.

clear perception, transparent; or aware

By

V.Van Tiem


2/21

LUCID - Victoria Van Tiem

1

Contents

PROLOGUE ............................................................................................................................ 3

- 1- INTERVIEW ......................................................................................................................... 4

- 2- NUMBERS DONT LIE........................................................................................................ 21

- 3- NOT A DATE...................................................................................................................... 35

- 4- INVITED ............................................................................................................................ 51

-5- KESS ................................................................................................................................... 70

-6- HANG OUT DATE ............................................................................................................... 84

-7- STAYING PUT ................................................................................................................... 102

-8- DINNER AT JACKS ............................................................................................................ 111

-9- VEGAS ............................................................................................................................. 126

-10- ODDS ............................................................................................................................. 147

-11- THE BEAUTIFULS ........................................................................................................... 159

-12- THE VAULT .................................................................................................................... 181

-13- SURPRISES ..................................................................................................................... 194

-14- A-LIST REVEAL ............................................................................................................... 214

-15- LIFE WORLDS ................................................................................................................. 225

-16- A LIFE TIME OF KNOWING ............................................................................................ 238

-17- LUCID ............................................................................................................................ 252


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In vain to scream with quivering lips she tries,

and strains in palsy'd lids her tremulous eyes;

in vain she wills to run, fly, swim, walk, creep;

the will presides not in the bower of sleep.

Erasmus Darwin
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erasmus_Darwinhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erasmus_Darwin


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PROLOGUE

I could not move my legs, my arms. Nothing obeyed as the darkness weighed heavy

over me and pinned me down. It suffocated the light, clutched its sheen until it fragmented

into minuscule glints, and extinguished. I blinked and tried to focus my eyes, squeezing

them open and shut again. I visualized the tiny nerves firing to the muscles in supercharged

bursts, forcing movement. My fingers twitched- I could wiggle them. I pushed harder, and

clenched my teeth under the strain. My arm was free. Frantically I grabbed at where I knew

the light to be. I felt for it, reached for it, smacking my palm around on the nightstand

searching for the ceramic base. My fingers skimmed along the neck to find the protruding

metal button and pushed. Click, pop! A loud crackle and the entire room flashed as the

bulb exploded. For just a moment, I saw it. A shifting mass of dark, its outline burned in

my eyes. This is the exact moment, I realize, I am in fact, asleepdreaming. I know this

because Ive had this dream my entire life.

On a good night, I wake with my hair matted by sweat and a bit disoriented. On most,

the realization that Im dreaming propels me onto a single silver line and I can feel them,

rushing, grabbing, shoving. On rare occasions, I am pushed. I fall unable to wake in this

reality, yet fully awake in theirs.

Over time, I learned to rationalize lucid dreams and false awakenings through science.

Only science cannot explain why the light still bursts, when I know, without question, that

Im fully awake.


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- 1-

INTERVIEW

Statistically speaking I was a solid eight, an eight out of ten. Why do we rate ourselves by a

scale to ten, who came up with this? I lost points because the equal thirds rule. Divide your face in

thirds, measure the bottom of the chin to the tip of your nose, again from the tip of the nose to right

between the eyes, and again to the hairline. The closer each sections measurement is to the other,

the higher your score. My middle third is a bit short. Frankly, Ill take an eight. In fact, it feels

good.

Gum? woman with mismatched outfit sitting across from me on the trolley asks. I shake my

head no. Wait what if I need gum, what if thats why shes offering.

Um, yes Im sorry, that would be great. I accept, popping the spearmint into my mouth, now

assured I would not show up to conduct my first interview with anything less than minty breath.

We seem to stop at every corner, but I enjoy the ride. The wooden interior panels try to capture a

forgotten charm of a different era, and thick cushions of black vinyl invite you to sit and relax a

spell. Trust me, its all for show, in fact, the vinyl is sticking to the back of my thighs right now,

sure to leave two gigantic temporary welts.

Outside, its a typical beautiful day. Lake Havasu on average had 300 perfectly sunny days a

year. No, I never counted, it brags this little bit of information on every travel brochure and

website- sunny and hot but with a dry heat. My wavy hair curls up in the humidity, so as a bonus I

have better hair days since I moved here from the Midwest. This is Arizonas playground tucked


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neatly between the foothills of the Mohave Mountains and the reservoir from the Colorado River.

The trolley stops and passengers shuffle off and on while gum woman stays put eyeing me. I

narrow my eyes and turn my lips up slightly in her direction, only to realize I have a mammoth

bubble hanging out of my mouth. Pop, I anxiously snap the first one and quickly close the gaping

hole to pop two more in rapid succession, pop, pop. Fun little trick not entirely appreciated, yep, I

get it, very annoying. I spit it in the wrapper and with eyebrows raised give a little shrug. My foot

begins tapping where the bubbles left off. This will be my very first time interviewing anyone and

its going to be published. I have to keep saying this to myself to believe its real.

A-List is a national, well-read celebrity hype magazine, a cross between Glamour and People.

An intern had stumbled upon my blog and shared my beauty by numbers formula I had posted with

some colleagues. They were measuring each other faces and tallying their totals when the

supervisor asked what they were doing, and since she too ended up participating in the distraction,

they contacted me. By the way, she totaled a 9.5.

My blog, Pop Science with Kessler Rae, has gained popularity in the last few years not because

Im offering high-level, deep thought provoking scientific theories, but precisely because I dont. I

focus on the science we all talk about: what exactly is dj vu, how can you tell if someone is

lying, what exactly is consciousness. The whole reason I started the blog was to make sense of a

world that no longer did. I want to see beyond the curtain, I want answers, and I want a VIP

all access backstage pass. Mostly, I want to know why my before life is gone, and Im

here, existing only in the after, the four years and seven day ago after.

I look at my watch, 9:45 am. I have fifteen minutes to make my appointment. I lean out of the

trolley letting the manufactured breeze skim my cheeks, and finally see my stop ahead. It only took

thirty minutes to travel a half mile down the road from where I started. I could have walked, but not


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in these heels, no way. Today, I, Kessler Rae will conduct my first interview, for my first

paid article on my mathematical beauty equations for A-List Magazine, and I needed to

dress the part. This includes heels. I still cannot believe who I am interviewing, the man of

the moment, Jack Bradford.A-List set this up to give my data something tangible to sink

its teeth into- a near perfect face to demonstrate the data, and as one of Peoples most

eligible bachelors, twenty seven-year-old Jack fit the cover perfectly. Did I mention this is

a possible cover story? The trolley rolls to my stop so I unstick myself from the seat, give a

passing nod to mismatched gum woman, and make my way out.

Most of the downtown had second-story office buildings leaving the street level for

the mom and pop shops. Not Jack Bradfords building; it took up the ground floor as well.

Square blocks of white concrete walls stacked high in odd interesting fashion outlined vast

single pane windows. This was the House That Jack Built, it said so, etched and contrasted

by white overlay above the double doors. I walked in and immediately regretted the heels.

Why do shoemakers insist on making heels in a material that makes noise with every step?

This makes everyone look at you, and then your feet, as ifIt wasnt bad enough to feel like

a full out circus performer balancing on stilts, now I had taps. Click clack, click clack. The

receptionist looked up, glared across the room at me, and then my shoes. I click clacked

closer to check in.

"Yes?" he miffed. He is wearing a bright yellow button down shirt over a deep blue tee.

Odd combination, yet it somehow works with his yellow-cropped curly hair and fair skin.

"Kessler Rae to see Mr. Jack Bradford. I provided. The desk lamp dimmed and surged


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back full when I spoke.

Mump, it does that sometimes as the trolley goes by. he rolled his eyes as he checked

his watch as if I were late, which by the way was a Rolex, and grumbled. His timepiece

and demeanor reflected self-importance. He waved me away, dismissing me to take a seat.

I peeked outside trying to catch a glimpse of another trolley before pretending to dig for

my phone, a maneuver that allowed me to walk slowly, and step soft, to minimize the

tapping of my shoes, strategic, although only somewhat effective.

The spacious two-story foyer was barren with high white walls except for the oversized

framed art with bright pops of color. The narrow windows stretched from the baseboards to

the rafters allowing the Arizona sun to bounce through uninterrupted. Strange, artistic

planters resided next to white leather benches, and an orange shag rug pulled the seating

arrangement together. It was simple and impressive.

I sat down and looked at my watch again, which, by the way, is not a Rolex. In fact, it

is a rubber strapped, oversized ten-dollar timepiece, reflecting no level of importance, only

the time, which is 9:55. Why am I so nervous? I admit, I am a bit of a nerd and within the

scientific and journalistic community; I am definitely on the outside. You could say an

outlier. According to Wikipedia, an outlier is an observation that is numerically distant

from the rest of the data. Yup, thats me, distant from the rest, however at an eight it

wasnt a numerical distance. Yeah, Im going to run with that as long as I can.

Magazines all featuring Jack stare at me from the little white coffee table. I thumb

through them. Room Remodel with a four page spread on Jack Bradford. Dwell modern


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homes favorite beach house from The House that Jack Built. I pick through the tabloids on

the bottom shelf and yup, even these highlight him. Clever titles like a New Jack in the

box, or Jack-Of-All-Trades, in bold fonts layered across his photo, and most included the

girl of the moment, some celebrities, but mostly models.

Jack Bradford is the new media Darling who is reinventing how the it culture builds

their McMansions. Instead of the typical sprawling estates, they now wanted uber designed

prefabricated modular units in green home architecture. Responsible celebrities lined up

for Jack to design and build their renewed image conscious vacation homes, and rumor had

it even Leonardo DiCaprio was having one built. Jack Bradford was everywhere and as

luck would have it, he was right here in Lake Havasua.

The entire building abundantly sold his image. Clean lines, minimalist dcor, even the

smells were inviting. It was masculine with a rich musky scent. I took a deep breath in,

closed my eyes, and took another. So intoxicating and heavy, I could not place the blend of

spices. Oh, it was wonderful, why had I not noticed it before? Another deep breathe in. I

needed to just relax, and exhale.

Someone cleared their throat. I opened my eyes, and my stomach dropped. Jack

Bradford stood directly in front of me. I could not believe I smelled him before I saw him.

He was every bit as beautiful as the photos I had seen- it was a bit unnerving. I

immediately found my feet.

"Hi, Im Kessler Rae, Im here for the interview from a-list," I said sounding

robotic, forcing out my hand and trying to look professional.


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Jack, it's nice to meet you. He said without inflection. His hand wrapped around

mine, and he did not let go. I did not let go. A million tiny electrical charges surged

through me, as if my body had fallen asleep and I only now was shaking it awake to pins

and needles. I could not take my eyes from his. They were the lightest pale blue I had ever

seen and the light played in them creating fluidity. I knew him. It was not that I recognized

him. I mean, hefeltfamiliar. The moment seemed to last uncomfortably long and then, just

like that, his hand released mine, and he simply spun leaving me nothing to do but follow.

The smell proved distracting, it somehow seemed to lead. I took another deep breath in.

Since Mr. Bradford walked ahead of me, I placed most of my weight forward and tiptoed

so my heels would not make any sounds back through the foyer. I knew the receptionist

was watching me, I peered over my shoulder and sure enough he rolled his eyes in my

direction. I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips back. If I had not been here to interview

Mr. Bradford, he may of gotten a I need to push my hair back, oh wait did I use my

middle finger gesture.

I take another breath in, wondering what the brand is. Something new and Im sure

expensive. It probably had pheromones. I had written a series of articles recently for my

blog on pheromones. I even ordered some, ran experiments, and documented the results.

For men, the pheromones Androstenol and Androstenone are to mimic mens sweat

creating a testosterone charged alpha male. For women, they add a hormone called

copulins to imitate when she is ovulating, thus increasing a mans testosterone by as much

as 150% I dont thinkJack Bradford would need additional pheromones to grab attention,

or more testosterone for that matter, but no one can naturally smell this good.


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I grab hold of the steel and cable railing of the stairwell as I step up grateful It had

custom-made carpets covering each one and I followed him, letting their cushion muffle

my heels. Mm he smelled good. I take in deep slow breaths as we climbed to the upper

level.

And as you can see, a very short climb to the top." Mr. Bradford stopped and

starred directly at me, eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed together. Was he referencing the

stairs or his career? He seemed to be waiting on a response. I nodded slightly as If I agreed

and smiled. Yeah I got nothing; I almost laughed at myself. Oh, my gosh Kess get it

together. Mr. Bradford led me through a maze of well thought out functional workspaces

while he spoke of form and function.

These are plans to create a guest retreat," he said as he pointed down at someone's

vacant workstation. You couldnt really call it a cubical, more a standalone open office.

Two white walls interlocked creating a nook for a small desk and worktable. The

computers screen had random windows open with gridlines depicting different buildings. I

placed my hand on the monitor and the screen jumped, I quickly pulled it back. I was

careful not to touch anything else, keeping my hands safely behind my back. On the side

table sat a miniature model to give the vision 3-D depth, and beside it, multiple coffee

rings gave clues to the whereabouts of the missing inhabitant. I could really use a coffee

right now.

We call this an easy-breezy rail system, because it has walls on a track allowing the

cool breeze to pass right through. No air condition unit means a smaller footprint. Jack

continued piecing the words together thoughtfully in a most quotable way, only I wasnt


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writing anything down. His entire presentation seemed pre-rehearsed and flat, I guess I

expected Jack Bradford to be animated and larger than life. Instead, he seems reserved and

quiet. Except when he looks directly at me, and then he was unsettling.

We stop briefly on a catwalk that overlooks a huge warehouse. A myriad of activity

and noise emulated from below. Cranes hoist house pieces together like a large 3-D puzzle.

This is why he needed the ground floor as well as the studio above, I thought to myself.

You know, his voice dropped a little lower as he peered over the factory floor.

Part of finding the answers, is asking the correct questions. Jack paused and glanced

quickly at me before returning his gaze forward. Was that a hint for me to ask something?

Had I asked him anything? I barley was listening to be truthful, well I was listening to his

accent. I couldnt place it; In fact, it was so slight I couldnt be sure I had heard anything at

all, until he would slip on a certain word.

My client is looking for an extension of themselves in the homes we build. They want

to appear successful, trendy, and environmentally responsible. his voice grew even

quieter. He leaned down on the cable and glass railing that matched the stairwells,

We are also working with large companies who want to be branded as a

philanthropist. They are funding an inexpensive version, a sustainable housing solution for

poverty-stricken areas. The pause lasted longer than necessary. I still didnt say anything.

Knowing what they are looking to accomplish, what exactly they are looking for

allows me to find it for them. The whole world seemed to inhale and hold its breath. Jack


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shifted his weight and turned directly to me. His chin came up to serve me a question.

What are you looking for? This was a different Jack Bradford. This time the words

and expression were working in tandem, not deadpan at all. His eyes were disquieting.

Hes so close and looking right at me, talking directly to me, about me. I knew him.

Below a blowtorch ignited sparks of fire and the world exhaled shooting the volume up

by more than double. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and continued walking. I

scampered behind to catch up, as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred. His guided tour

and prepackaged speech picked up right where it had stalled. What am I looking for?

"Maybe we could sit down and talk?" I stopped him in midstride. Mr. Bradford

froze, tilted his head, and sized up my proposition.

My office. Is all he said and I followed him back the way we came to the first room

we passed. The room loomed enormous with tall windows that mirrored the front foyer,

providing the perfect view of Lake Havasu. Boats drifted across the water, tourists flew by

on jet skis with the infamous London bridge reflected in their wake. I wondered why he sat

with his back to the window. The focal wall featured leaning ladders in a row of three;

their shelves housed small works of art and miscellaneous awards. His simple desk

reminded me of something I had seen at Ikea. In fact, his whole office could be a show

room for Ikea. In this enclosed space, the smell, his smell was almost unbearable. What

kind of pheromones were in this stuff. He extended his hand, indicating for me to have a

seat.

Sitting opposite him, finally I was able to take a good look. He had intense, bright blue


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eyes that seemed translucent when focused on you, and a shade deeper when engaged

elsewhere. His expression held serious, with a permanent slight furrow to his brow. He had

an angular jaw already shadowed by the promise of afternoon scruff, a medium frame, and

athletic vibe. The buttoned down white shirt hung loose over a pair of dark jeans, and a

black suit coat he wore for more formal meetings, hung by the door. No Rolex, in fact no

Jewry except A simple brown cord wrapped over a small wooden cross like what they sell

at Ana Crombie or Aero. His style said undone in the most put together way , its no

wonder he captivated the media.

I sat across from him, shifting in my chair not wanting to start in prematurely with my

measurements. I needed to time it all out perfectly; otherwise, I may end up like Bridget

Jones, with a false start halfway down the firemans pole, and the last thing I wanted was

to be caught with my backside exposed.

"So as I said Ms." he paused for me to fill in the blank.

Rae."

Rae, My company is leading not only in design and brand, but in making an

impact on the environment." He continued with his speech finding its way back to its

natural rhythm.

I understand, but Im here for a different kind of interview. His eyebrows rose

marginally showing a slight amount of interest.

Im doing a story more on human design. I admitted. He didnt stop me so I spoke


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faster as I pulled my notebook and pen out setting them across my lap. In design, there are

rules of proportion, certain equations that are most pleasing and are used over and over

even in nature. You know this as the Golden Ratio."

Golden Ratio he said at the same time. What I explained was art basic 101, but he

was respectful and allowed me to finish. I dug around in my bag looking for the fabric

measuring tape I brought. When I had it, he scrunched his eyes and leaned back in his

chair, arms crossed across his chest in the standard blocking motion. Jack watched me and

this felt familiar. Yes, I feel accustomed to having his eyes on me, which feels weird, not

the him watching me part, but the feeling that Im used to it part.

Mr. Bradford, I interrupt my own thoughts rolling the tape between my thumb and

finger.

Jack. Please. He offered, his tone softened, still eyeing the tape.

Jack, there are roughly, well, exactly, twenty nine measurements to predetermine a

person's overall rating, you know the typical scale of one through ten. I stood up making

my way towards him trying not to inhale his scent. I was rambling and rushing my words, I

needed to get a grip. The closer I got to him the stronger the odd sensation grew. My

thoughts and mouth worked separately. In my mind, I scrutinized every mannerism, I

wondered if he reminded me of someone, and if so who? My mouth rattled off the basics

of the theory.

No one has been recorded as a perfect ten. Although I bet, you can guess who comes

close. A celebrity. I explained watching him closely. He definitely was confused by the


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turn in the interview. Brad Pitt of course right? He scored 9.3 out of ten. I held up the

tape measure as if to ask for permission to proceed. His eyes narrowed, and for the first

time the corners of his lips curled into a bemused smile. He straightened his posture and

waved his hands for me to proceed. His phone rang and he clicked the speaker button. I

froze where I stood.

Yes.

Excuse me, Mr. Bradford. Your next appointment is here. The receptionist

interrupted sounding much more pleasant than he did with me. Jack regarded me a

moment, and I worried I missed my opportunity, that I should of cut to the chase first thing

and skipped the tour.

Please inform her Im running late. Click. No common courtesy extended. He waved

me in to continue. I leaned in towards his face, my hands shaking as I unwound the fabric

coil. Standing this close his skin seemed flawless. I could not see any visible pores, not

one. I wonder what cleanser he used. I run the fabric through my fingers, aligning the

lowest number to just under his chin, and measure his chin to nose tip.

Three inches. I say aloud as I moved the tape measure from the tip of the nose to

directly between the eyes. Threeinches. Then middle of his eyes to his hairline.

Unbelievable, I measured again and stood there dumbfounded.

Whatswrong? Jack asked me.

Your face is in perfect thirds, in absolute perfect thirds, I repeated to myself as I


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stepped back to my notebook and wrote it down. Mr. Bradfords expression relaxed for the

first time, immediately revealing his mere twenty-seven years.

Sodoes this mean Im in Brad Pitt territory?" he teased. I looked at him surprised

that he slipped out of character.

Twenty eight more combinations to go. I assured him. His lips curled up in an easy

smile, another first. I only needed a few for the article but the more I jotted down, the more

I kept going. I measured length to width ratio, each half, his ears, and even length of lips.

This one proved tricky.

You need to be very still." Why did I speak so soft? I positioned the tape measure

from one corner to the other, and he full out smiled and guffawed. Was he embarrassed?

Perfect creases formed around the corners exposing one single deep dimple. My eyes lifted

from his newly formed smile and found him looking right at me. My stomach jumped, I

turned a full glowing, change to a different color kind of blush, and instantly refocused

down on the tape.

You can't smile." I reprimand gently holding back my own. He repositioned his

lips in a straight line, very stiff and mumbled,

I don't understand what this is about." his eyebrows shot up. The prepackaged

demeanor from the tour now completely disposed of. He is impossible. Not only was he a

living pheromone trap, but also I had to be this close, not this close, but THISCLOSE. I

finished and glanced at him sideways as I wrote down the numbers.


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So you're a serious journalist. Are you? Mr. Bradford provoked. His tone dropped

low, and his expression reverted to the stern disposition. I stepped back to answer him.

Well I write a popular blog, but this would be my journalistic debut, in fact . I

admitted not adding anything more to the conversation. I was busy jotting down the final

numbers and reviewing the groupings, making sure I had indeed gotten what I wanted. The

equations all seemed too balanced, too perfect. I needed to reevaluate the combinations,

add them up a second, and maybe even a third time. I also wanted to rationalize the strange

feeling I was experiencing around him, it definitely was something more than just basic

attraction, mathematical or otherwise. I started packing up my things to leave without

further discussion. Jack seemed puzzled, surprised. Did I sense a little disappointment?

Ms. Rae, He invited me to explain as he leaned back again in his chair gesturing

with hands held out in front of him. He does know my name.

Really that's it? Nothing more you want in your debut article? He dragged the word

debut out, I could not tell if the tone was patronizing or teasing.

You didn't really ask any questions, how we started, gross revenues; you didn't even

ask me who I was dating. his voice dropped like before on thebalcony, Dont you have

any other questions for me? There it was again, that feeling. I stopped for just a second.

Mr. Bradford. I had the feeling Jack was used to a certain interview pattern. Then

there was me, I actually dont think I asked him many questions. Did I ask him even one?

Well, I smelled him. I followed him around, and I measured his face. I smiled.


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OK, yes, I do have a question. How tall are you?" yup, that was my question.

Im 510. He paused, Really?" it was more of a challenge posed as a question. Now

he was just annoying me. 5'10 wow, not 59, not 62, nope exactly 5 foot 10.

Guess what the average height of all leading men in Hollywood is Mr. Bradford? The

average falls between 59 & 511, with the absolute ideal being a perfect 510. Brad Pitt,

510, Robert Redford, 510, Paul Newman, 510.

Tom Cruise, he sniped.NOT 510

Well heslisted as 510. Jack laughed in spite of himself. I liked his laugh- it was

instantaneous and genuine.

Anyways random misalignments do exist. Actual variables along the same line.

Now he looked at me smiling as if I was crazy. He stood.

Look. Jackdisputed his hands up, I agreed to be interviewed for A-List. You

know, a typical interview highlighting what Ive built, my company and sure, maybe some

personal stuff on me. But honestly, face measurements, my height?"

Mr. Bradford, have you ever heard of the predetermined line? The floor lamp in

the corner dimmed. I paused and listened if the trolley was rolling by.

The predetermined line, I repeated. Is my theory of how everything from your

name, success, your looks, are all decided before you even say your first word. Maybe,

even before you were born. The fascinating thing is the amount of scientific evidence


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supporting this.

What does this have to do with me? Jack leaned in on his desk. The magazine is

the one that had wanted to fluff up my data, and now the actual fluff was questioning my

creditability, or at least teasing me about it.

Random bits of luck, whether good or bad, could be dots on an already drawn line

connected with invisible ink. This article is a small piece of my theory. The measurements

contain a few fun bits of data that support real scientific equations. I explained now on a

roll. A-List only was interested in my data dramatic pause to drive it home. If it were

wrapped around a pretty face. I raised an eyebrow, tilted my head in victory, and waited

for his reaction.

Are you sure you dont want to ask anything else? He said this as if I was missing

some important detail. I didnt even pause,

"Yes, one more questionwhat cologne are you wearing?" That was my question. I

cannot believe that rolled off my tongue. This broke the seriousness and he full out

laughed. I smiled in my embarrassment.

I don't wear any, bothers my skin. he shrugged, shook his head and raised his arms

up in surrender. I gave him a professional nod as if satisfied with the answer, turned and

left. Are you kidding me? He does not wear any! I made my way back down the corridor,

deciding to use the elevator on the way down. How can he not be wearing any? I wonder if

I am ovulating. He seriously was lying, messing with me, had to be. Just as the steel doors

opened, I walked smack into a pair of Victoria secrets Miraculous Bra boobs; you know


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the one that makes you two sizes bigger. Her high heels put her at least a foot taller than

me. She was all legs and deep red lipstick.

"Sorry. I offered as tall, blonde, and bouncy sneered down at me before hurrying off

in the direction I just left. Obviously, she was one of Jack's girls. I wondered if she could

smell him. I literally had to stop myself from turning and asking.

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Lucid Chpt 1