Ill, There Is Not the Place

Gizel murmured softly in belinda's ear after a few moments, god, this is not the place. It really isn't. The small nub flesh became wet extremely quickly. Belinda directed the conversation over lunch back to a question she had been meaning to ask all morning. What was the name of the organization? These irishmen worked for? Gizel, and who cares? I don't know. This is important. Everyone there was to do a deal. Right? Theer. Jazel what would you say if i didn't know?