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On the fourth Saturday of every month, I have a special arrangement.

I visit the home of a high-profile client and I have to do everything on his terms.

Personally, I'm not a believer. If he exists, after all, why would he allow me to play his praises while I think about a fucking guy whose name I don't even know?

Unless God also loves to fuck. But, can he?

Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

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