“I mean no to the date. I don't want to date,” I answered.
For a few seconds it seemed the hamster in his head came to a complete stop.“Okay so you don't want to go out on a date with me?” he asked looking disappointed.
“No but sex is okay. We don't have to go out, but we can still sleep together,” I told him something most men hoped a women would say.
His look didn't really give out the look of finding the Holy Grail of opportunities. He looked as if the hamster in his head was now given an energy drink with cocaine in it.
“No dating, but just sex is fine with you!” he shouted. Sherlock looked disgusted by this. “I'm not a cheap whore,” he added.
“You're right about that. You're more of an expensive high class hooker. It's not like
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I was giving him a no obligation with no strings attach sex pass and he didn't want it.
“Can I ask if it's me. Do you not want to date me? You're not afraid of losing your job?” he asked pacing around dragging me along in his circles. “Look I don't want you to feel like-
“I don't have a problem with you at all. And I know you wouldn't fire me. If things got awkward you probably just find me another good paying job.” I replied.
Sherlock's face seemed to brighten at my answer. “I just don't date,” I added. To be honest I've never dated.
His face looked down at me in pity and concern. I hated that face it was one I kept seeing that
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“Compromise for just this,” Sherlock seethed trying to control himself.
I was a bit confused until he barked out more orders. “You're obviously sexually frustrated. Just continue playing with yourself,” he commanded.
Hot damn. For a long time I was slack jawed and dumbfounded. With a grunt he took our joint hands and lead it down my body right to my sex. He moved my hands like a marionette to his will. Our hands were bound but we could move our fingers. Sherlock dipped a finger inside flexing it back and forth causes my fingers to try to keep the rhythm with him. Since he had this part I decided to play with my breast with my other hard. Harding my nipples by squeezing and tweaking. Feeling me breast up. My breathing became quick, and surprisingly so was his. This was a bitch he was masturbating as well, but I couldn't see over the mountain of pillows between us. I tried to lift up my body while I was being fingered, but I just fell back down.
“If it make you feel better I can't see you either. I can just feel you and hear you. Besides I want to keep my control not seeing you is for the best,” he
“I think that he doesn’t deserve you”. He stared back at me with those eyes that will stick with you way after the conversation is over. “Well I wish I just became a movie star with all the money, and the fame,
He’s Just Not That Into You is an advice book written by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo, whom are both writers for the television show Sex and the City. This advice book gives women tips on how to tell if the guy they are talking to just isn 't that into them. Each chapter of this book begins with the phrase, “He’s Just Not That Into You If…” For example, Chapter one, “He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s Not Asking You Out” (Behrendt & Tuccillo, p. 9), Chapter two, “He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s Not Calling You” (Behrendt & Tuccillo, p. 23), and my favorite chapter, chapter six, “He’s Just Not That Into You If He Only Wants to See You When He’s Drunk.” (Behrendt & Tuccillo, p. 70)
I asked him ‘Didn’t you have a wife or a girlfriend you could do this with?’ He said ‘I like this better. I like it better this way.’ “
“I’ve given you all the money I have.” Tears glistened in her white-ringed eyes. Her voice was hoarse, vibrant. “I’ve thrown myself on your mercy, told you that without your help I’m utterly lost. What else is there?” She suddenly moved close to him on the settee and cried angrily: “Can I buy you with my body?” Their faces were a few inches apart. Spade took her face between his hands and he kissed her mouth roughly and contemptuously. Then he sat back and said: “I’ll think it over.” His face was hard and furious (Hammett 57).
Zero awoke to find himself standing, it was not something he was familiar with and he searched his memory for any recollection of it happening before. Quickly he discovered that large parts of his memory were missing, gone were the seemingly endless data bases of information. Quickly he sent out feelers trying for a connection of some sort but he drew a blank. It seemed that where ever he was now, had limited connection capacity. Instead he used his visual feed to survey his surrounding, it appeared he was in some kind of desert of discarded parts.
“C’mon Sherlock, why not have a little more confidence in me. It’s not like I’m on my death bed.”
I watched him as he got dressed in my suite. I still remember the way he looked at himself in the mirror that sat on my shelf. Grooming his hair, black suit, and tie, he was a completely different person. He trapped me in a web, seduced, spun, surrendered.
He is socially awkward and arrogant as seen at the bar he says “I don't exactly know what I am required to say in order for you to have intercourse with me. But could we assume that I said all that. I mean essentially we are talking about fluid exchange right? So could we go just straight to the sex.”
it better when he described how Sherlock Holmes sees and feels about Ms. Irene Adler:
There once was a man named Franswah, and he had a wife named Keisha. They both lived in Keithville, Atlanta. They had a little girl named Jasmine, she was twelve years of age and she attended Ghettoville Jr. High School in the seventh grade. Keisha never did like doing anything, so her husband Franswah decided to go out and have an affair with a lady named Shay. Franswah and Shay worked at a law firm together. Shay was his assistant, she always helped him with things and they always went to lunch together. So some nights he never came home or either he came in late. Keisha was never the type of person to just argue, she mainly just questioned him to see what the response would be and she left it alone until the next morning. So one night when he came in he had a funny odor and Keisha asked him what was up with the smell, he told her that he had been working out and got sweaty. Their daughter Jasmine had very high blood pressure, so most of the time she didn’t go to school because of her condition and she stayed ill. Keisha had a younger sister named Ashley, she is the rowdy type that doesn’t care and will tell anybody anything. Keisha was telling her sister about Franswah coming in late, having a odor on him and don’t want to be questioned. So one day when Ashley was over there and he walked in she confronted him and told him if she find out that’s its that he’s cheating on her she was gone handle it. So he got mad and started hollering at Keisha for telling her sister about what was going on in their relationship. Then that’s when Ashley came back and told him that she can tell her anything she want to tell her because that’s her sister. So few minutes later the phone rings and its was Shay. Keisha answers the phone and it was another lady’s voice, and she asked to speak to Franswah. So she asked her who is calling and she told her that it was Franswah’s baby mother. Everyone is in shock, so Ashley gets on the phone and started getting rowdy. Ashley was asking her different questions like how old is the baby, where she live, and where did Franswah and her meet.
Watson says ““The brute! The brute!” I cried with clenched hands. “Oh Holmes, I shall never forgive myself for having left him to his fate.” (Doyle)
For my first piece of original writing I intend to create a piece primarily written for entertainment however, I also want to portray an interest into historical and political persuasions. I aim to write this piece for an audience of teenagers to young adult who are aged from around fifteen to twenty-five and are male, I also wish to identify with those interested in political thrillers within this age range. The genre of which shall be a short fiction story consisting chiefly of narrative and written in the third person. I picture this piece as being one of a collection of short stories concerned with the political-thriller fiction sub-genre. Despite being a fiction text I aim to tie in real world non-fiction.
Never.” He respond with, “I guess.” I said, “I can’t let this happen.” I leaned in and talked quieter this time, “I’ll tell you what I want.
This was very true to character, as Sherlock’s mind never actively stops working. He speaks in a quiet tone of voice most of the time and makes only small movements and gestures, which adds to the air of mystery that surrounds him. John tends to speak a bit louder, especially when angry or upset. His gestures are usually bigger and more dramatic. He is very forgiving, which is proven beyond a doubt when he is willing to forget Mary’s violent past and admits that he still loves