Dan　shook　his　head　briefly。

…　No　…　the　breath　of　it　floated　to　the　sky　in　lufadas　cold　and　white。　…　I　am　a　poet。

The　two　saw　Vanessa　is　agachar　for　the　poodle　to　sniff　mink　coat　from　the　lens　of　the

camera。　Dan　is　bent　forward。　She　was　so　lovely　behind　the　camera　and　so　fortable　with

what　I　did　that　was　difficult　to　believe　that　use　of　the　material　inappropriate　way。　Maybe

Jenny　was　right　not　to　blame　Vanessa；　he　concluded。　Maybe　she　has　not　had　anything　to　do

with　that　link。　Somehow　her　work　had　fallen　into　the　wrong　hands。

…　I　published　anything？　…　Asked　Ken　Mogul。

…　Not　yet　…　Dan　smiled　to　himself。　…　But　a　poem　I　will　leave　the　New　Yorker　in　the　ing

months　…　he　added　with　pride。

what　she　wants　is　not　what　she　has

They　were　almost　11　of　the　night　when　Jenny　came　to　the　festival　of　Serena。　His　sympathetic

taxi　driver　had　bee　stuck　in　traffic　in　Times　Square　…　that　everyone　knows　that　is　a

place　to　be　avoided　in　the　new　Year…crowded　with　tourists　because　it　is　drunk　and　is　a

plete　nightmare。　Jenny　and　was　then　left　on　foot。　It　felt　cool　and　mature　way；　alone　in

the　street　at　night；　on　the　way　to　a　party　where　they　finally　see　her　boyfriend　again；　the

love　of　his　life。

When　the　elevator　and　out　into　the　loft；　Jenny　unbutton　your　coat　and　handed　the　girl　at　the

entrance。　The　breasts　estupendos　inflated　in　black　and　gold　top　with　V　neck　in　designing　for

the　room。

Hi；　hi！

Several　men　at　the　party　immediately　recognized　the　little　hair　of　the　link　on　the　Web　that

was　a　hot　gossip　holidays。　They　stopped　what　they　were　doing　and　began　to　applaud。

…　Hey；　e　here　and　show　me　your　thong！　…　Screamed　a　drunk　man　was　wear