Indian Housewife Swallow

It was actually the transitional moment, the moment in between when I literally stepped out of the building of my job into the intense winds of hurricane Irene. I should have been scared, I mean it was a mile long walk to my car, in the dark, and no one was walking with me. There I was pulling out my iPod prepared to look up a little Eminem for the trip, when it began to rain. No, it didn’t begin to rain, it began to pour, like someone was dropping an ocean from the sky. For a split second I was frustrated with the situation, I had left my umbrella in my car. It was right at that moment I remembered a quote I had read somewhere, ‘Sometimes God calms the storm, Sometimes He lets the storm rage and calms His child.’ I realized then, I wasn’t really upset. I didn’t feel as if I was in any danger. It was only wind and rain. I felt as calm as that storm felt out of control. I found a spot under some trees and dropped my purse. I knelt down and began to roll my khakis up to my knees, and. To have the Guardian Angel participate in my self-serving bullshit would create the dangerous suspicion that it was too servile toward me, which would quickly lead to the thought that perhaps it was of me rather than of God. [[Cheney and the top CIA bosses had decided weeks ago that the Guardian Angel wasn't of God, and were already trying to find out what it was. My having been observed swimming so fast by a satellite as part of my chatting up the SCS girls was just one of my many little, and some not-so-little, giveaways.]]On our first morning back from Noumea, my girls and I approached the SCS art groups working on our property. Not all of the group members were working that day - it was vacation time after all - but all nine of the girls I'd started seducing had come because they were very eager to meet me again (I'll hereafter call them my "first-contact nine"). We did some innocuous "We're back and we had a great time. How are you?"-type chitchat as we reviewed their two.
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