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Weekly Contest #110
The pistol under her skirt was rubbing on her thigh, reminding her of the three bodies she had left back home; she would have to forget once she was on the road. She got into the wagon, holding the dry and unwashed hand of her new lover, Billy. Whilst he started the horses, she fixed her golden locks onto a better-suited travelling hair-do. She was dripping in fear of being caught, but she had to remain still while they were not moving. People might recognise her.Named after her great-great-grandmother, Annie, the lovely and beautiful, the m...
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