Pani Pani Vako Puti Ma Chikna Nai Chuttai Maja K

I finally raised my hand, having heard enough. I then asked Becky what was going on. She stared angrily at Margaret, then asked me sharply, "What is the dress code here?" "There isn't one," I replied. "That should have been explained that to you on your first day here." "Exactly and it was," came Becky's confirmation that her question had been rhetorical. "There is no dress code. The purpose of this place is to design and sell computer software. All of our sales are on-line or through our sales reps. We don't have the public coming to our office for anything. I'm just more comfortable like this. I hate wearing clothes, and figure I can be more productive if I'm not bound by the restrictions of textile." Just then Margaret interjected, just as I was starting to speak, "We can't have you going around looking like some kind of trollop and interfering with everyone else's work." I again, just put my hand up, then started to speak. "I have to partially agree with both of you on this one.. Not now…“Baby…” She leans forward, crawling toward you across the bed. “Baby, I’m so sor—”“Don’t.” You put up your hand, unable to look at her. “Just…just DON’T, okay?”This is working.You pull a small duffel bag from beneath the bed and go to your closet, grabbing at whatever. Forethought escapes you; whatever you forget can be replaced.“Baby?” she asks.Don’t engage her. That’s the last goddamned thing you need right now. You need to be away from her, from this place, from that bed (your own goddamned bed, for chrissake!). You need to get away and find a quiet place and…and just think this through. Two months! She’s been sitting on this for two goddamned months, and now, what? You’re supposed to be able to sit down and discuss this rationally? No…“BABY?” she asks, anxiety raising her timbre. “W-what are you doing?”You sigh. “I’m getting out of here,” you mutter, stuffing a wad of socks into the overfull bag.Her feet pound against the hardwood as she rushes the closet. “You’re…you’re.
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