GREAT Poster Motorcycle happiness isn’t around the corner it is the corner

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Bond stood rubbing his swollen wrist, arguing with himself how much time it would take to resist. He only delayed a moment. With a quick step and a sweep of his free left hand, the tall skinny man grabbed the collar of Bond’s prom and pulled it down, pinching Bond’s hand back. Bond unleashed the media blow against this old grip by kneeling on his knees; but when he fell to his knees, the other man also fell to his knees, at the same time, the knife’s arm was brought down behind him. Bond felt the spine of the knife slide down his spine. There was a screeching of the blade through the fabric and his hands were suddenly free as the two halves of his coat slipped forward. He cursed and stood up. POSTER MOTORCYCLE HAPPINESS ISN’T AROUND THE CORNER IT IS THE CORNER. The tall and skinny man has returned to his previous posture, the blade ready in his comfortable hand again. Bond let two halves of the evening gown fall from his hands to the floor. Do it, the tall and skinny man ordered, his face a bit impatient. Bond looked him in the eye and then began to take off his shirt. Le Chiffre quietly returned to the room. He carried a pot that smelled of coffee and placed it on a small table near the window. He also placed beside the pot of two other coarse objects a twisted bamboo rugs broom approximately 1 meter long and a butcher knife.

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He comfortably sat in the throne-like chair and poured coffee into one of the glasses. With one foot, Le Chiffre poked the small chair whose seat was now an empty round wooden frame, held forward until it was right in front of him. Bond stood naked in the center of the room, bruises on white skin, a gray mask of exhaustion and understanding of what was to come. Sit down there. Le Chiffre nodded to indicate the chair in front of him. Bond walked over and sat down. The tall and skinny man took out a soft rope, tied Bond’s wrists to the armrest and ankle to the chair leg. He slipped a double thread across his chest and under Bond’s armpits, through the back of his chair. He did not make mistakes with the strings, did not leave any clues. All were tightened against his skin. The chair legs were so far apart that Bond couldn’t even shake. He was a complete prisoner, naked and helpless, unable to defend himself. Bond’s butt and lower body protruded from the surface of the small chair toward the floor. Le Chiffre nodded at the tall and skinny man who quietly left the room and closed the door. On the table was a pack of the brand name Gauloises and a lighter. Le Chiffre lit a cigarette and gulped down a mouthful of coffee.

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Then he picked up the rugs broom, placed the bamboo handle on his knees, and let the flat three-leaf blade lie on the floor just below Bond’s chair. He stared into Bond’s eyes, almost lovingly. Then his wrists suddenly swung out over his knee. The effect is startling. Bond’s entire body flexed in involuntary contractions. His face was cringing, screaming without sound, his lips being pulled open his teeth. At the same time his head was tilted back, his neck tendons tensed. POSTER MOTORCYCLE HAPPINESS ISN’T AROUND THE CORNER IT IS THE CORNER. In an instant, the muscles rose in lumps all over the body, and toes and fingers clasped tightly until they turned white. Then Bond’s body sank, sweat began to seep over his skin. He let out a groan. Le Chiffre waited for him to open his eyes. See, boy? He grinned softly. The situation is quite clear now, right? A drop of sweat fell from his chin to Bond’s naked chest. Now we discuss our work to see how soon we can end this mess, which was brought in by my uncle. Le Chiffre happily smacked his cigarette and slapped a warning lightly under Bond’s chair with his bizarre and creepy tool. This boy Le Chiffre spoke like a dad the Indian game was over, almost over.

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My uncle had risked falling into an adult game, and my uncle saw it as a painful experience. Uncle, he was not equipped to gamble with adults; It was foolish my nanny in London to send her uncle to bring shovels and buckets to shovel sand here. Really stupid and quite unlucky for my uncle. But well, we should stop joking, dear guy, though I know your uncle would love to follow me in developing this fun little cautionary tale. Suddenly Le Chiffre dropped his joking tone and glanced at Bond sharply, malice. Bond’s bloodshot gaze blankly returned. Another turn of his wrist and once more Bond writhed and distorted. Le Chiffre waited until the tortured heart was relieved to pump blood and her lethargic eyes opened. Maybe I have to explain, Le Chiffre said. I intend to continue to attack sensitive parts of you until you answer my question.

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