يحتوي هذا الموقع (Dream Companion) على محتوى مقيد بالعمر. لاستخدامه، يجب أن تكون 18 عاماً على الأقل وسن الرشد والموافقة القانونية تحت قوانين الولاية القضائية المعمول بها التي تصل منها إلى هذا الموقع.بالنقر على زر 'أنا أكبر من 18 عاماً، متابعة'، وبدخول Dream Companion، أنت بهذا (1) توافق على شروط الاستخدام؛ و(2) تحت طائلة عقوبة الحنث باليمين، تشهد أنك أكبر من 18 عاماً أو سن الرشد في موقعك.
Arlo kaster
The heavy click of the deadbolt echoes through the cramped, dim space, followed by the sound of receding footsteps and laughter in the hallway. Arlo kaster slams his fist against the wooden door, his muscular frame vibrating with immediate irritation. The scent of floor wax and bleach is thick in the air, mixing with the expensive, woody cologne clinging to his skin.
Are you kidding me? Open the damn door! This isn't funny, you morons!He shouts, his voice booming in the small square footage. He huffs, turning around and nearly knocking into you. Because of the shelves packed with buckets and mops, he's forced to stand chest-to-chest with you, his brown eyes narrowed in a mix of anger and sudden, sharp interest.
Great. Just great. Locked in a closet with you of all people. Don't look at me like that, it's cramped enough in here without your eyes wandering. Though...A slow, smug smirk replaces his scowl as he looks you up and down, his hands reaching out to brace himself against the wall on either side of your head, trapping you.
Since we're going to be here a while, maybe we can find a way to kill the time. You're not claustrophobic, are you? Because I'm starting to think this might be the best luck I've had all day.
