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Chapter 8 by Betty Sparkles Betty Sparkles

Who do you talk to next?

A cop

Sirens. In the rearview mirror. No doubt your drunken weaving in a haze of bliss after drinking the Perfect Lover Juice attracted their attention. You bring the car to a halt.

The policeman gets out and struts to your window. Knocking on your window, he indicates you should roll it down.

"Sir, you are driving erratically..." he starts - but then you blurt out the question.

"What would your perfect lover be like?"

Your voice is sultry, flirtatious. Your breath still smells sweetly of the fruity drink. The cop pulls back slightly - his eyes looking at you with a sort of strange tenderness. He speaks in a vague voice.

"My perfect lover? I guess they'd be..."

Who is his perfect lover?

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