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The Bitch Bites Back
The Bitch Bites Back By Michele Nylons Pamela stood huddled in the dark doorway, halfway down the back alley. It was cold and a light drizzle had settled in, the sheets of fine rain just discernible in the dull light of the single working lamp halfway down the alley. Pamela was in her mid forties and fighting a losing battle against the rising tide of age, her thighs and bottom were spreading, her tummy had started to sag and fine lines, not quite yet wrinkles, had...