Ms. J was not my type. I don't think that she was anyone's type or that anyone was her type. By the way she dressed, I would have guessed she was a lesbian-and not the lipstick kind. My life and spank bank were full of taller, blonder, nicer women. How did I end up where I am with her and why do I stay here? Ms. J is not her name. She lives in apartment J, which is right above mine. It's
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