You can't be someone else and neither can I, despite how others might demand it and regardless of how much we might want it." She crushed her cigarett.... "That's Ronnie's problem. She wants to be me, she wants the same boyfriends others have, she wants to be anyone but herself. I can't be what my mother wanted. And I won't be what Mr. Buchanan wanted. I'm not submissive, and I'm not a saint. I'm stubborn and different. I learned to be alone and to see what others do without being involved in. I sailed the pacific ocean one stormy summer. I just enjoyed painting and being alive. What is, or was, your take on it before I described it to you?" she asked thoughtfully.Rosalie began to speak keeping her eyes on the painting. "I thought it was representative of life really and how we are so small and the world is constantly trying to pull you into its ocean storm, drowning you in its chaos and despair." She felt herself tear up a little as she said it.Natalia moved closer to her, wrapping. High, "fuckme" stilettos, tight slightly rouched Oriental corset, unsealed justenough to let her compressed breasts peek out of the top, sleeveless tolet her bare arms draw attention. She'd gone blonde for the occasionwith pink highlights, which seemed to appear and vanish depending onwhat angle they were viewed.She'd set her makeup to vixen. She was going to pick up her conquestdownstairs and give his sandy blond bangs a tussle. Amy had good tastein men. He had made a few inquiries of the. "You two get dressed this instant." He told Jan and Peter, then he turned to Bobby and Cindy who were coming up behind him. "You two stay out of here for a few minutes." He didn't notice the look that passed between them."Now," he turned back to Jan and Peter just finishing dressing. Get up to your rooms. Your OWN rooms. We'll discuss this just as soon as your mother and I sort ourselves out."Mrs. Brady had backed up against the sliding glass doors, her hand was in front of her face, her eyes.
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