Gazing into the mirror, Jessica could only stare in horror as she notice she has the early signs of acute Pornography!
Her first thought was to phone Brandon immediatly and tell him the news—when suddenly a chilling thought raced through her body with sufficient enough force to wrench the breath from her, and nearly stopping her heart in the process: was it actually Brandon's pornography, after all? And even were it not, she then thought, would he be willing to accept it as his own?
The dilemma of who was the rightful sire of the imminent pornography haunted her every move in the coming days, as she secluded herself in her room away from family and friends, when a glimmer of inspiration came to like a lightning bolt that nearly jarred the eyes out from her head: she would allow the pornography to achieve full term, and then, shortly thereafter, in the stealth of night, she would secretly present the new arrival to the wizened, sagacious, and much respected authority of such matters in her community for his perusal;
"he would know," she mumbled under her breath as she stole away along the back alleys, shying from the ubiquitious street lamps in the cold, damp, drizzle, and then finally, after a round-about sojourn designed to elude any one who should so follow her, she then arrived at her destination, located in a prestigious area of the town, just bordering the one of the more affluent suburbs, and then, upon taking a few cautionary glances over each shoulder, gave a desperate wrap with her frail hand to the heavy wooden door that bore a placard above the mail slot with the name of the exalted resident with in. "Aces N. Jacks," it read.
"He would know," she said, then giving a sigh of relief at the sound of footsteps and barking dogs from within the sumptuous estate heading towards the door...