Bonus Sister Quotes

How about that one? Is that a constellation?" I asked, pointing upward. We were down in the small valley where the truck was parked. Alex sat leaning against a rock; I was between his legs with my back against his chest, his arms around me as we stared up at the stars. "Yeah, that's the Seven Sisters, the Pleiades." He bent his head, and I caught my breath as his warm mouth nuzzled at my neck. I hadn't gotten even remotely used yet to how good it felt to be kissed by Alex. "It's so sexy how you know all of this," I said when I could speak again. "Yeah?" I heard the grin in his voice. "I know the summer constellations, too. Will that get me bonus kisses?" "I think it might, actually.

I fell in love with you first,' Cecily always said to Esther. 'Your father was a bonus.

The maze reappeared, in ghostly blue this time, the pellets punctuated by countless miniature foods--- not only fruits but pixelated pizza slices, tiny sushi rolls, petite hamburgers. Ms. Pac-Man faded onto the screen, not in the bottom half, where she usually started, but in the central box, where the ghosts usually did. Instead of her trademark yellow, she appeared blinking, in blue. "She's--- she's one of the ghosts?" Maura took up the controls again. Kostya watched her move through the maze, eating everything in sight. "It's a secret level," Maura told him. "Only available in the 1983 rerelease of the Japanese cabinet. It's called the Hungry Ghost Maze." "So it's a bonus round? The point's just to... get more points?" "The points don't matter in the ghost realm. To clear this level, you have to find the Happy Meal. Hidden in one of these fruits is a portal that gets you back to the real world.

Thinking it Ranulf, she tugged the garment down and beamed the incomer a smile. The smile changed to one of shock at seeing her sisters-both up and already dressed. Seeing her initial jubilant welcome, Edythe snorted and rubbed her arms vigorously in an attempt to get warmer. Lily, on the other hand, laughed. "Sorry. You obviously hoped we were someone else," she mumbled, not meaning it at all. Tyr poked his head in and, looking at Edythe, said, "We are to be leaving soon.Be ready." Edythe issued him a scowl and rubbed her very red nose. "I heard you the first five times," she moaned. "The man does not believe in sleep and cannot seem to get it through his head that some do," she added, speaking to Bronwyn but keeping her gaze on him. Tyr arched a single brow and stepped inside. "I sleep,just not all day." Edythe sniffed.She wasn't feeling her best, but she was not about to let Tyr chide her without consequences. "You may have been the one standing beside me at the alter, but that doesn't give you permission to act like my husband." "I know your husband well, and Garik's going to feel the same way," Tyr responded, crossing his arms. Edythe lifted her chin and several locks of her red hair fell around her shoulders. "Not after I'm done with him. He'll be glad to have a wife. And the fact that I like to sleep in bed, he's going to consider a bonus." Then with a manufactured flair, she stepped around him and plopped down on the fur blankets with enough force that her hastily made braid came totally undone. Few outside of family had ever seen Edythe's auburn tresses completely free, but those who did were blessed with a sight that denied description. Tyr just stared at her for several seconds. Every muscle in his body had gone tight and he looked as if he were struggling just to breathe. A second later,he pivoted and abruptly exited the tent, stomping off with no effort to hide his displeasure. Edythe, who refused to look at him, could no longer pretend to be ignorant of Tyr's mood. "The man is a menace," she mumbled as she once again rubbed her nose.

My sister is a nice girl,” Klaus said, “and she knows how to do all sorts of things.

Ah! Boo was a bonus. I confess I didn’t know she was my half-sister. When she told me her dad was Dele Babangari, I nearly fell off my chair. You can tell her from me, she’s not a real Babangari. Just another of his worthless bastards.

Josie said. “We almost gave up several times,” Dora admitted, shaking her head.  “But maybe the quilt did keep us from going home earlier than we had planned.” “I like the name Rolling Stones,” Josie commented. “Hey, that’s kind of like us. We didn’t use wagons, but we managed to tour part of the country.” “You’re right. I believe we should just keep the quilt.” “Won’t it remind us of all the anxious moments?” “Maybe, but we showed courage and persevered,” Dora said, soundly.  “Hey, where’s the bonus they promised us?” “Well, I don’t know.” Dora searched the box and held up a blue envelope. “Let’s see.” Josie whipped it out of her hand. She broke the seal and took out two airplane tickets. “Airplane tickets?” Dora asked in disbelief. “What do we do with tickets?” “Here’s a note between the tickets.” Josie opened it.  “It says the tickets are for a quilt show in Philadelphia. Milton wants us to attend.  He says he will meet us there and answer more questions for us.” “But we’re afraid to fly,” Dora protested. “Could we send the tickets back?” Josie suggested. “I don’t think so. Milton will be out his money.” “When is it?” Dora took the tickets and examined them. “In September. Only a month away.” Josie tapped her chin in thought. “If we decided to do more touring, we could extend our trip from there to the New England States.” “We could see the autumn leaves,” Dora said, excitement rising in her voice. “Anthony wanted us to visit him in Iowa,” Josie reminded Dora. “How are we going to work all this in?” “I have no idea. Why does traveling have to be so complicated and so full of surprises?”   ______   MDora looped a bright red scarf around her neck while glancing out her bedroom  window. The wind swirled bits of trash down the sidewalk of their Hedge City, Nebraska, home. She sighed, wishing she could stay at home today and read.  Buzzie looked up at her and meowed, expressing the same sentiments. She reached down and patted her softly.  But she didn’t have that luxury today. She had agreed to substitute teach for the current English teacher who would be out for at least a week.  Josie called from the kitchen. “Want more coffee?” “Yes, please.  Fill my mug.  I’ll drink it on my way to school.” She reached into the closet and pulled out a beige sweater. A glance in the mirror confirmed the bright red scarf did wonders for the nondescript sweater’s color. Josie joined her at the door dressed in russet slacks and matching jacket and handed Dora her mug.  “A little blustery today.” “For sure.” Dora eyed Josie, wishing she had the sense of style Josie displayed. The sisters would walk together and then would split to their separate ways, Josie to fill in at the

Expectation is our first devil when it comes to making an ask. It could apply to many situations when you expect the person receiving your time and attention to know what you want. You might expect that picking up an extra project at work will automatically be remembered by your boss when you discuss your upcoming bonus. You might expect that giving your child a certain look will remind him to play nicely with his sister. You may expect that when you have told a good friend that you are free to help them after their surgery, you will be the first one they call

Very well. I’m confident Papa told you about our missed connection aboard the Grimm vessel.” “What’s a vessel?” Daphne asked. “The layman calls it a boat,” Pinocchio explained. “What’s a layman?” Daphne asked. “Oh dear. The schools in this town are failing the youth,” Pinocchio said.

Fuck,” I moan. I’m just at the peak, trying my hardest not to let go, when his phone begins to vibrate in his front pocket. The sensation intensifies and the vibrations are an added bonus to my already throbbing clit. I lose my battle and I bite down on Peters lip, letting my orgasm shoot through me. “Shit, shit… Shiiiiit,” I repeat, forgetting how good it feels to let go. The buzzing stops. But then starts again, tickling my sensitive center. “Sit up,” Peter says, digging his phone out of his pocket, he looks at the screen. “It’s your sister.” Shit! He presses the green button, and puts the phone to his ear. “Hey, Agnes,” he speaks, but you can tell his voice is strained. “Yeah, I know where she’s at.” What! My sister would kill me if she knew what I was doing! I slap him on his chest! I mouth no, while shaking my head. Smiling, he says, “Agnes, hold on, I have another call.” He pulls his phone away to mute it. “Go out with me.” “What?” “Go out with me. Let me take you to dinner. Or… I tell your sister you’re in here with me and I just gave you an old fashion orgasm.” I gasp. “Are you blackmailing me, Peter Parker?” He laughs, “Its Wesley, and yes. Yes, I am.” I can’t believe him. I call his bluff and shake my head no. When he asks me if I’m sure, I stick to my ground and say yes. He just shrugs his shoulders, and brings the phone back to his ear and tells my sister that I am currently sitting on his lap.

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CHAPTER Seven When you know someone a long time, you become accustomed to their idiosyncrasies, which is a fancy word for their unique habits. For instance, Sunny Baudelaire had known her sister, Violet, for quite some time, and was accustomed to Violet’s idiosyncrasy of tying her hair up in a ribbon to keep it out of her eyes whenever she was inventing something. Violet had known Sunny for exactly the same length of time, and was accustomed to Sunny’s idiosyncrasy of saying “Freijip?” when she wanted to ask the question “How can you think of elevators at a time like this?” And both the young Baudelaire women were very well acquainted with their brother, Klaus, and were accustomed to his idiosyncrasy of not paying a bit of attention to his surroundings when he was thinking very hard about something, as he was clearly doing as the afternoon wore on. The doorman continued to insist that the Baudelaire orphans could not return to the penthouse, so the three children sat on the bottom step of 667 Dark Avenue’s lengthy stairwell, ate food they had brought down with them, and rested their weary legs, which had not felt this sore since Olaf, in a previous disguise, had forced them to run hundreds and hundreds of laps as part of his scheme to steal their fortune. A good thing to do when one is sitting, eating, and resting is to have a conversation, and Violet and Sunny were both eager to converse about Gunther’s mysterious appearance and disappearance, and what they might be able to do about it, but Klaus scarcely participated in the discussion. Only when his sisters asked him a direct question, such as “But where in the world could Gunther be?” or “What do you think Gunther is planning?” or “Topoing?” did Klaus mumble a response, and Violet and Sunny soon figured out that Klaus must be thinking very hard about something, so they left him to his idiosyncrasy and talked quietly to each other until the doorman ushered Jerome and Esmé into the lobby. “Hello, Jerome,” Violet said. “Hello, Esmé.” “Tretchev!” Sunny

Perhaps Mr. Lesko is now your neighbor, or Mrs. Morrow is now your sister, or your mother, or your aunt or wife or even your husband.