The parking lot was empty. She looked at her phone. It was dead, “Damn!” She looked towards the street, “I know I’m not that late.”She waite... at least ten minutes before she found herself crossing the parking lot. That’s when a car pulled up, “Hey, Mrs. T.”Lisa’s last name was Stevens. Mrs. T was what some of the boys called her, but rarely to her face. She was told once a few years back that it stood for ‘Trouble’, but Lisa knew what it really stood for, ‘Tits’. Bold of them to call her that. I still can't describe what I felt then; just cold fear, I guess was the best description. The way she fell, it appeared that her neck had been broken, and, at the least from the thunk, she had a very bad concussion. While Diane looked and listened to Tammy's father tell which hospital we were going to due to, the possible neck injury, Pammy refused to look, as if doing so made it real, and not seeing would keep it away so it was only a bad dream.As Diane and I got in the car, it felt really. Julie was an excellent Storyteller and could weave all sorts of sideline occurrences into the overall chronicle quite smoothly. For us, she created a scenario where we would need to infiltrate a rival vampire group’s home and obtain information that could be used against them. Fairly boring probably, as I describe it, but Julie could bring such things to life with details and mood. After our first hour of information gathering, locating the house, and getting inside, we found that we would need. It didn’t stop me from trying though. Exactly eight days had passed since my most recent attempt at spicing things up. I’d broached the subject on a Friday evening and was met with a heavy sigh and a promise to, "give it a try" over the weekend. As was the case about half the time, my suggestion was conveniently forgotten and I’d written it off as just another failed attempt. The following Tuesday evening after dinner, Pam brought it up. “You know that stuff you mentioned trying last Friday.
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