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Just in case.I had told Walker, “Gene Austin is downstairs. If Mindy tries to leave, don’t do anything, just call him.” I was about 95% sure Mindy didn’t have the gumption to do anything on her own initiative these days. And she didn’t.So we talked. The three of us. Mindy not only didn’t mind Walker’s presence, she seemed comforted by it.Yes, she’d fallen under the influence of The Creed of the Brethren. Just a little at first. Everyone was so kind, so interested in her. Not like those Mission Hills snobs.A cute 16-year old boy had skillfully separated her from two girlfriends at the tony Oak Park Mall in Overland Park, Kansas. Fucking Kansas. He, Kevin, was neatly dressed and polite. Mindy had been flattered by the attention.They met up again on Saturday as they had planned and the light flirtation from Kevin had been most welcome.It was classic grooming. Having culled the weak one form the herd, The Creed played the long game. Mission Hills, hell yes.Mindy spent an occasional. More and more words flowed colder and colder, my denial holding back the tears until at last the dam burst from a sod grew a wail of despair and disgust. So many lies I had been told and believed, so many deceptions just for the game of him being the first to bed me&hellip, &hellip,His letter stated clear at the end You are so like the others, each and every one, weak willed and weak in the mind, you danced to each of my songs thinking I was real, all just to show you how much power I have over all in the world. I did this to you simply because I could and chose to. How heady the nectar of love sundered and shattered can be, of knowing that you dear Charity will never be of value to anyone, for by now I have gone to your home and confronted your family with the dishonorable conduct of their daughter no more does honor live with you, and their love is now cold and you forgotten as if you never were. &hellip,How long I cried I know not, save the innkeeper coming in to see what was.
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"My god," he whispered again, looking at Sandra.He moved away, stunned, almost afraid to be near her. He had not even noticed the lack of page turns on her part, so caught up he had been by following her conducting.He could not remember ever being so astounded that his arms shook visibly.From his new vantage point beside the first violins, Gary watched the musicians as they followed Sandra again, into the 'Sehr ruhig' section. He was just a spectator now, part of the audience. The last critical bit of his eye as a teacher had disappeared, and he just listened to the music unfurl for the next several minutes.Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned slowly, for a moment growing angry at the interruption. John Wiltshire, the head of the violin department, leaned in to him.Gary relaxed, glad it was not a student he disliked."Who is she?" John whispered, his brow knotted.Gary got close to his ear. "A singer." A singer? What? Where does she conduct?" She's a freshman, here at.

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