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“He’s the lead.
The first 70 lines are his.
This is opening night.
No, I don’t think we can do it without him.
What’s the problem, exactly?” “It’s better if I show you.
” Beau was in the equipment van, seemingly inert. Boot licking bdsm.
At first the stage manager was worried he might be dead, but then he belched in his sleep and rolled over.

The smell coming off him was like a wino’s gym bag.
“Jesus, he’s drunk.
” “You don‘t know the half of it. Prone girls sex prone girls sexes.
” “I never really understood the phrase ‘stinking drunk’ until now,” said the stage manager.
He was too amazed to even really be mad.
“What the hell were you guys drinking?” “Just wine.
Half a glass, I swear. Huge black cock for beadnell trophy wives.

It’s the same stuff we’re serving to everyone.
Everyone drank it, and we‘re all fine, but Beau…well, just look at him.
” Beau was chewing one of his sandals in his sleep, like a dog gnawing a bone.
The stage manager took it away. Swinger clubs turku.
“All right, alert the understudy.
” “Understudy?” “Surely we have one?” He flipped through his notes.
They must have assigned it? They couldn’t possibly not— “Excuse me,” said a voice from behind them.

Deepthroat a bannana.