Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8744017.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Hamilton_-_Miranda, 18th_Century_CE_RPF
  Relationship:
      Thomas_Jefferson/Reader
  Character:
      Thomas_Jefferson, Reader, Reader's_Parents, James_Madison_(Mentioned),
      Dolley_Madison_(mentioned)
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, Sexual_Tension, Resolved_Sexual_Tension, Explicit_Sexual_Content,
      Cunnilingus, Rough_Kissing, Gentleness, Thomas_Takes_His_Time, Riding,
      Wall_Sex, Southern_charm, Pet_Names, TJeffs'_Large_Penis, Inappropriate
      Behavior, Inappropriate_Erections, Virginian!Reader, Canon_Era, Mild
      Period-Typical_Sexism, Older_Man/Younger_Woman, Flexible_Age_Gap,
      macaroni_and_cheese, Shameless_Smut, Vaginal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Washington_Is
      Watching_From_The_Other_Side_And_Judging_Me, Setting:_1790, Very_Mild
      Daddy_Kink, Reader-Insert, Bustles
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-04 Words: 4686
****** Southern Hospitality ******
by casstayinmyass
Summary
     Seeking solace from a storm while travelling with your parents, you
     come to Thomas Jefferson's estate and he allows you to stay the
     night. A little southern comfort goes a long way...
     Canon era. Set in 1790.
Notes
     I tagged underage just because the reader's age is open to
     interpretation- she is a "young lady", so take that however you want
     to take it.
Thunder crackled overhead as your carriage rolled along the beaten path. Your
father had to travel for his job as a plantation surveyor, and decided to bring
you and your mother on the trip, but due to inclement Virginian weather, it had
taken you a lot longer on the road.
"This damn storm," your father muttered under his breath, "Southerners
shouldn't get storms like this, but these damn mountains are all over the
place. I wish we didn't have to travel across these horrendous stretches." 
"Don't sound so enthusiastic, darling," your mother, all prim and proper and
southern mannerly, told him, "Would you rather the British still own these
lands?"
"Don't bring the war into this," your father murmured, looking off. The rain
would accompany the thunder soon, turning a bad evening to worse. Your mother,
ever the optimist, gave a tight smile and a reassuring pat to your father, as
if that would increase the pace of the horses.
Suddenly, the carriage came to an abrupt halt, the horses slowing and neighing
in distress. There was a scream, fading hoof beats, then  silence... before the
side of the carriage you were sitting on dipped turbulently.
"What in the blazes-?" Your father exclaimed, jolting up. You followed them
out, surveying what had happened. The driver was gone, the horses had been cut
free, and one wheel was missing.
"Robbed?" your mother asked, clinging to your father's arm.
"Obviously," you spoke up, setting your hands on your hips.
"There's no way we can get anywhere with a wreck like this," your father
sighed, rubbing over his face. Your mother looked around, through the bramble.
"Surely we can go for help."
"Gloria-"
"That's the only sane idea," you cut in, "What is there to do waiting here, for
him to come back and steal me?" At this, your father gave a quick nod, and
ushered you and your mother up a hill. Through some bushes, over some
 pathways, and you had come to the edge of a private estate surrounded by
trees.
It was well manicured, gorgeous grass stretching on forever, with a large brown
and white mansion in the middle. You could still spot flickering lights on
inside, despite the hour of early evening.
"No... we'll have to find somewhere else," your father shook his head, "We
can't impose on the secretary of state approaching the dining hour."
"Secretary of state?" you repeated, twisting your silk gloves in interest.
"He serves us people, William," your mother admonished, "Surely he won't turn
us, good folk of his home state, away?"
"That's not the point, we're speaking of Thomas Jefferson-"
"We're going to be struck by lightning out here! We may be getting on in our
years, William, but our catch of a daughter has just found a worthy young man
who is seeking her hand."
"What if he's throwing a dinner party for the president?" your father worried.
"Don't you think the president has more pressing issues than dining with his
secretary of state?" your mother retorted, and despite them, you had already
started up the pathway to the entrance. You didn't know about those two, but
you were muggy in the humid, stormy air... and always wanted to meet the famed
man behind the brilliant mind and Declaration, Thomas Jefferson. Your parents
soon approached the grand door, your father knocking hesitantly. A few moments
went by, then the door swung open to reveal...
"Oh! Good evening..."
There, in a plum coloured banyan robe and holding a thin, stylish cane, stood a
very casual looking Thomas Jefferson. His curly mane of hair was a little wild,
and he was munching on what looked like a biscuit smeared with some cheese.
"...Uhh... I apologize for my attire! I'm afraid I wasn't expecting to see
anyone tonight, you'll have to forgive me," he finished, swallowing the last
bite. Your eyes roamed over him. From what you could see through the dipping
robe, his broad chest was covered in a light smattering of dark hair, with
muscular legs under it. Your father spoke up hastily.
"No, sir- we're the ones who should extend apologies. See, we were travelling
along the road, and happened into a situation of misfortune."
"Travelling at night, with such precious cargo?" he asked, and you looked up in
surprise to see him glance at you fleetingly before safely turning his
attention down to your bags, "You must have come a long way." Was that a
flirtation? You certainly hoped it was.
"Not far. We own a plantation a ways away, right here in Virginia."
"Oh!" he grinned pleasantly, "Please, come in, come in, I won't refuse a fellow
Virginian- in these times of political volatility within our great new country,
every southerner is my neighbour. Welcome to my Monticello!" You find yourself
surprised by his humility; you had always heard stories of the politician's
massive ego, but he seemed kindly enough. Chancing a look back at him, you
found his eyes on you once more... lower than meeting yours. When you noticed
him staring, you brought a hand up to your exposed chest, wondering just how
much your frilly pink bustle revealed. He didn't turn away and blush as most
men caught in the act would- instead, he met your eyes and smirked. Feeling a
little flushed and excited at where this could go, you followed your parents
into his parlour.
"Again, I apologize for my appearance, folks, but don't be offended- I answer
my door like this more than one would think."
"I'd like to apologize for mine as well," you added, "It appears I ran into
some bramble on our daring escape, and...well," You gesture down to the slight
tear you had in the neckline of your already low-sweeping dress, which he
didn't seem to mind at all.
Your mother gave a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you for taking us in, sir. We
were robbed out there."
"No," Thomas gasped, ushering you in to sit by the crackling fireplace, "Oh,
how terrible!"
"It was all very frightening," you sniffed, biting your lip. The heat of the
fire was doing nothing to cool what felt to you like a raging fever, so you
take to fanning yourself pretentiously with a gloved hand.
"I'm sure it was, sugar," Thomas replied, the pet name flowing off his tongue
coolly and causing you to cross your legs, "Good thing you're safe and sound
now." He looks at you a little longer, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body
again, and you quirked an eyebrow. His jaw clenched visibly before he got up,
rubbing his hands together. "Supper! I'm sure y'all could use some grub after
that mess, am I wrong? Let's get somethin' into you."
"Oh, we don't want to impose-" your mother began to insist.
"Dinner would be lovely," you cut in, flashing him a charming smile. You saw
him smile back, and he promptly turned his back to you, rushing off to the
dining area. After bringing out small snifters of brandy for all of you, he
returned to the kitchen. 
"I won't dare leave this mastery of the culinary arts in the hands of my
servants- they always seem to ruin the texture- so I'll whip something
scrumptious up. Just have a seat at the table, and pray my maids had the good
sense to set the places for tomorrow before they left." After about ten minutes
of waiting, you started to smell what seemed like bubbling cheese. "This is
sure to lift your spirits, my traveller friends," Thomas said, coming out with
a steaming pot of oven baked... something.
"W-What is it, may I ask, Mr. Secretary?" your father asked, and Thomas stood
back, proud of himself.
"Macaroni and cheese. I learned how to make it in France," he told you.
"Oh... it looks, ehm... simply delicious," your mother tried, picking up a
fork. Evidently, Jefferson's maids had had the good sense to set the places in
preparation, which they would unfortunately have to set again upon arrival. You
frowned.  
"Cheese... melted onto pasta?" you asked, rolling the food around. Your mother
slapped your knee under the table, but you looked up to the Secretary of State.
"You got it, doll," Thomas replied, "It's heaven in a pot." Not taking his word
for it, you looked down at the food before delving in. He was right; you were
hungry, and you would eat anything he set in front of you.
Shockingly, it tasted amazing.
"Marvellous, isn't it?" Thomas sighed dreamily, taking a bite of his own.
Almost every forkful that entered his mouth was accompanied by an unholy moan,
and you could tell your parents were unsure of what to do with such. "Goodness
gracious, I could eat nothin' but."
"Nothing but?" you asked, raising another eyebrow. His dark eyes flashed to
yours, surprised at the implication, and you quickly looked down, smiling
secretly to yourself at your own boldness.
"I feel I'm underdressed," he suddenly said, pulling his robe so that his
growing erection was covered, and though your polite parents continued to
assure the politician that he had no obligation to change, he insisted, darting
upstairs. Your parents turned their attention to you. 
"I would suggest you adopt a more modest way of speaking to the most important
man of our state," your father snapped, and your mother tutted.
"This is a very significant man we are imposing on. We can't forget our
manners... especially a young lady such as yourself!" 
Thomas came back downstairs dressed in a modest yet almost as flashy burgundy
three piece suit, white socks, shiny shoe buckles, underclothes and everything
else in place. His cane was back to accompany him, and his hair was a little
more tamed than before. Good lord in heaven, he could mount you right on this
table and you wouldn't complain a word.The brandy was making you stir. 
"That feels better," he flashed a winning grin, and you turned your attention
back to your empty bowl as he circled. "Can I interest you in another bowl? I
love the stuff, but lord knows Jemmy and his wife won't touch it with a ten
foot pole, so I've got plenty."
"I would love another helping, if you've got it to spare, sir," you replied,
batting your eyelashes. His smile stayed, bringing the pot over.
"Here you are, angel mine. Hope that's enough to fill you up." You sucked in a
sharp breath, your core aching with want at his words. His surely large cock,
under all those layers, was inches from your face... what would the Secretary
of State taste like?
"Is there anything we can do to repay-" your father began once more, but Thomas
shook his head.
"Hush, good sir, ain't nothin' but a little Southern comfort my daddy taught
me," Thomas frowned, waving him off. You studied him. He was being indulgent,
but your keen sense told you it was diplomacy, nothing more. He was itching for
something, uncomfortably shifting and fidgeting. You leaned forward a little,
squeezing your breasts just a tad more.
"You've been so kind to us, Secretary Jefferson," you feigned, biting your lip
red, "You're a real gentleman."
"As a man of my political stature, I have a fundamental obligation to my fellow
Americans," he replied, response curt and through gritted teeth. You could tell
your audacious advances were affecting him, and fast.
After a couple of silent minutes to eat, he spoke up again.
"I hope that satisfies your appetite, friends. I'll admit, I am a difficult man
to please, especially after returning from a place of such excess as France, so
I only keep the finest edibles here." You certainly would feel satisfied with
the strange new food he had provided your family with, but you remained
discontented... your sexual appetite demanded gratification.
"I don't think I'm full yet," you spoke up, shocking your parents. "In fact...
I'd say I'm rather empty." You stared right at Thomas, whose eyes were blown
wide with an edge of lust. He was in on your intentions... you were in on his.
"Perhaps all you need, my dear, is a quiet night's rest," he finally said,
rising from his place. You hoped he would pound the insolence out of you, so
hard you would feel it far into your belly for days. Taking your arm, he
squeezed a little too hard, and you found yourself smiling as you rose with
him. Suddenly, on his way to the dual sets of stairs, he realized all too soon
that he had forgotten the southern manners he had spoken so indulgently of
entirely.
"Sir... care for coffee and cigars or cigarettes in the parlour? I have the...
finest selection of tobacco that would put Washington's to shame," he asked
almost impatiently, willing his arousal down in your intoxicating presence. You
were still in painful sight of your family.
Your father was a little shaken up by your disrespect, but he managed to
politely decline. "You've done quite enough, Mr. Secretary. A million humble
thanks and blessings to you." Thomas seemed greatly unburdened by this answer,
and he directed you, your mother, and your father to one of the hundreds, it
seemed, of guest rooms up the winding banister.
"I hope you'll find the beds comfortable," he went on, opening the door. Your
mother and father nodded in thanks, and you took his offered hand. "You, little
lamb, must have your own room." Your mother looked back with a hint of concern
and disapproval, but Jefferson held a hand up, flashing his charming grin that
surely won him many a cabinet debate. "Be at ease, ma'am, these doors have
locks, and my servants reside in their own quarters. Your daughter's virtue is
safe in my hands." He leaned in so only you would hear his growl. "Oh ho, is it
ever."
When you arrived at the door, you realized it was not, in fact, your own locked
up, maximum security bedroom- it was the Secretary's himself.
"Not in your office?" you asked innocently, fluffing your skirts up a little.
He locked the door, pocketing the key.
"Why? Would you like to be bent over my desk and fucked from behind?" he asked,
tapping you on the ass with his cane. Though the image was a pleasant one, the
bed looked too comfortable to pass up.
"I would much rather take advantage of the fine, more forgiving satin you have
over here," you smiled, sauntering forward, and Jefferson watched you closely.
"You've got a taste for luxury, don't you lamb? I expect you don't get
everything your little heart desires with daddy... he's just a poor plantation
scout." His breath on the back of your neck sent chills down your bare back.
"He's not poor," you mumbled, "He provides fine." 
"Mmm," the politician hummed, fingering a few stray locks of fallen hair down
your back, "He must. How else could you afford a nice whalebone corset like
this one? How, how, how indeed..."
"Are you suggesting I sin for money?" you gasped in feigned offense.
"Am I?" he whispered, long fingers barely brushing your cool skin.
"Despite the truth... would it arouse you if I said yes?" you replied.
"Every damn thing you've done has aroused me," he sighed into your hair, "From
the moment I saw you there, at the door, all I wanted to do was suck pretty
bruises into that graceful neck of yours. All your slutty little comments while
you ate? Don't think those went unnoticed, doll. All I wanted to do was slide
in between those thighs- teach you a lesson, just wreck you." You contained
another gasp as he slots his erection under your ass, which must prove your
size estimate from earlier if you can feel him through all these layers.
"Very unethical of you," you admonished, suppressing your own aching arousal,
"You're a servant of the people, you shouldn't say such lewd things, sir."
"A man has his needs, sugar," he huffed.
"Mmm... is this a habit of yours in your private time, then? Praying upon poor,
vulnerable young things that happen upon your estate at night... you simply
can't help yourself?" You bit your lip, prolonging the teasing until you were
sure you'd driven him crazy.
"We both know you would have been knocking on this door by morning, with or
without my help," Jefferson smirked, beginning to trace the outline of your
breasts lightly from behind.
"You- ohh- 're every bit as self-absorbed as they say."
"Honest to a fault, I'm afraid," he responded, sinking his teeth lightly into
your shoulder. You couldn't help the moan that came out of you at the
sensation, so you dropped your act and tilted your head in obligation instead.
"Careful, sweetie pie. Don't want anyone to hear us getting up to no good," he
murmured in your ear, and your entire body shuddered. You had never wanted
anyone as much as you wanted Thomas Jefferson in that moment... you couldn't
stand it, and with a flustered breath, you whirled around to envelop his lips
in yours. Thomas kept up, lifting up your skirts even further and hooking one
leg over his arm as you continued to kiss, the action getting rougher with
every break for air. Hands ripped between the two of you at clothes you
couldn't even see, and soon, your frilled sleeves were down, Thomas' shirt
unbuttoned to expose his muscular chest and cravat discarded. You take a sharp
breath, already missing the burn of his close-trimmed beard on your face.
"I'm sure you didn't expect your evening to take this turn," you mumbled
against his mouth, gaze flickering from his soulful brown eyes to his plump
lips.
"I can't say I'm disappointed," he remarked, and you connected your lips once
again, unable to pry yourself off of his body. "Fuck, want to feel you around
my dick, babygirl," Jefferson growled, dragging his teeth up your neck and
nibbling on your earlobe until you squealed. Backing you up, he pulled away,
lips swollen from the passionate kissing. "Sit down on the edge of the bed for
me... can you do that?" You nodded, obeying. "Now spread your legs for me...
that's it, darlin'... nice and wide for daddy."
"Ohh," you whispered, covering your mouth as your back arches slightly.
"So damn beautiful," Thomas grinned wickedly, tongue flashing across his bottom
lip. He reached forward gingerly, removing your smallclothes as slowly as he
could. Evidently, you hadn't worn many, as you never saw the use in so many
layers down there, so he was able to undress you almost fully in minutes,
leaving you in nothing but your bustle.  
"I'm so wet," you whined, sliding a hand up to cup a breast, but he stops you
with a grip on your wrist.
"Shhh, lamb, be patient," Jefferson whispered, hooking your legs over his
shoulders. You wondered what he was doing, pressing feather light kisses up
your thighs, until he reached the source of your arousal, breath warm.
"Sir-!" you gasped, and he let out a hiss.
"I'm gonna have to stop if you get too loud, pet." You pouted, so he tutted. "I
hold office- I can't afford a scandal, so them's the rules."
"Very well," you breathed, placing your hands behind you on the bed for
support, "Continue." He continued to kiss up your legs until he reached your
throbbing pussy, where he pressed another kiss to your clit. "Oh, good lord!"
you cried, slapping a hand over your mouth. Everything Jefferson did to you
felt like heaven on earth. Soon, his tongue darted out, and he let out a soft
moan as he began to lick up and down your folds, gently gliding his tongue over
the very tip of your sweet spot. "Please, Mr. Jefferson," you begged, almost
sobbing, but he didn't relent- only continued his torturously slow pace,
licking up and down, around. This time, he applied a little pressure in a short
suck, and your legs convulsed a little. One more lick and you were going to-
"Do not finish until I say you can," Thomas rasped, staring up at you, and you
nodded, sucking your bottom lip so hard it hurt.
"It's... that's... so good," you whispered shakily, knees knocking together
behind his head, "I've never felt..." Thomas smirked.
"A man hasn't licked you like this before, darlin'?" You shake your head, no.
"Good... I like you like this, unspoiled. I assume that means you're still
virginal?"
"Yes."
"And you're not married?"
"Promised away," you breathed, and his nostrils flared.
"He hasn't fucked you yet?" You shook your head again. "Good man- he's got self
control. Unfortunately, the lad probably doesn't know how to do this." Delving
his face even deeper between your legs, you felt his tongue dip into you, beard
scratching the sensitive skin of your thighs, sending shockwaves of pleasure
through you. He pulled away quickly, leaving you mostly unsatisfied as you rock
through your climax alone, rubbing against the bed for friction to ride it out.
"W-Wha...?"
"I told you not to come," he said, getting up as his eyes take on a darker
glare, "I provide you with a place to stay, food, hospitality, and you're
defiant in response?"
"I..." you breathed, a pained expression developing on your face. The ache was
still there, but now you were more than frustrated from him leaving you to
yourself mid-orgasm.
"You're still feeling it?" Thomas asked, clutching your chin in his hand. You
let out a petulant groan, and he looked down your body to your heaving breasts.
"Well... we can do away this little thing, can't we?" Carefully unlacing your
bustle, you think you might die as he continued to take his sweet time. Rolling
your hips down into the bed some more, you hoped that maybe that would create
enough friction to-
"You're a whore for my cock, aren't you, angel mine?" Thomas asked, stilling
your hips.
"I want..." you gasped, "I want it... so badly, sir..."
"Okay, now... 'm gonna take incredible care of you, hey?" Jefferson muttered,
unlacing the last notch at last. You let out a noise as his large hands reach
forward, under your arms, to cup your breasts and knead them.
So, so good... not even you could touch yourself like this.
"Nice and wet... perfect," Jefferson smiled, and tapped you on the ass lightly.
"Bend over, now... you ready?"
"Yes," you sobbed, positioning yourself so his tented burgundy velvet was
grinding against you.
"Gonna fuck you so good, babygirl, shit..." he cursed, unlacing his breeches.
Shoving a hand down his smallclothes, he reached in and took out his cock,
which was leaking pre-cum already upon the sight of you spread for him. You
weren't going to say it... his ego was inflated enough as it was... you didn't
need to-
"You're so big," you marvelled, cursing yourself, and he smirked smugly.
"I know, doll. But you're so wet I could fit a couple fingers in there with me.
You said you'd never had anyone inside of you, now?"
"That's right. But I've used... alternatives," you murmured, looking down
bashfully. You heard him chuckle deep in his throat.
"You've stretched and bled then?"
"Yes."
"Mmm. I'm sure gonna enjoy you."
"Mr. Secretary... make me feel good," you moaned, desperate to feel him inside
of you; the need was building in your lower stomach, an irritating burn that
was becoming incessant.
"Shhh, 'course, princess..." After the sound of his buckle dropping, you felt
his naked thighs against your ass cheeks, guiding his cock between your
dripping folds. "Oh, fuuuu-" he breathed, his eyes rolling back. You pushed
yourself back on him, seeking more depth, and when he had buried himself fully,
you encouraged him to go harder. Drawing out, the Virginian slammed back in,
rocking you forward into the mattress. Every pump, you could feel the pressure
inside you growing, but the buildup was slower than it had been with his mouth
on you. After a minute, he stopped, buried to your hilt. "Dammit, I can't, I...
it's happening too fast this way," he muttered, half to himself, and pulled
out, causing you to whimper at the loss. Suddenly, he grabbed you up in his
arms, carrying you over to the wall and holding you there before thrusting back
in, pounding your back into the wall with every hard snap of his hips.
"I'm gonna-" you stuttered, letting out a drawn out moan. Who cared if your
parents could hear? Thomas Jefferson was fucking you, and you couldn't care
less if George fucking Washington was watching right now,
"Sweetie pie, so nice, you're so good for me..." he hissed, clenching his jaw.
You laced your fingers through his hair, and with three more hard pounds, you
gasped into his shoulder, hands flying for purchase around his shoulders below
you- just a little more. "Ah, I'm... shit, I'm-" In a flurry, he grabs you
again by the ass and flips you both so that you're over top of him, straddling
his lap as he fucks you from beneath. This amazing angle sent you over the edge
almost immediately, shuddering Thomas' name.
"Ohhh, fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck, I-" Thomas sputtered, giving a few irregular
thrusts up before you felt the warmth of him filling you. Opening your bleary
eyes, you could see his face all scrunched up as he came down from his peak. 
"I had no idea..." you started, swallowing, "...Putting a baby in a woman could
get so creative."
"Who said I was giving you a baby?" Thomas wiggled his eyebrows.
"You didn't pull out."
"I'm afraid I didn't have the time, sugar," he chuckled.
"Well... if God wills a child from this, then so it shall be... I certainly
hope he takes mercy on me, and keeps this a secret from my family."
"Honey, listen... I'm going to run for president," he told you seriously,
thumbing up your curves, "And my irritating political adversary, Alexander
Hamilton, is forever scrounging for any dirt he can find to ruin me. I can't-" 
"Have any scandals, I know," you sighed, biting your lip. "If I get pregnant,
I'll pass it off as my new husband's."
"You'll do that?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Of course. No one will be the wiser," you nodded, sure of yourself on the
matter. You had to take responsibility for your actions, and though you were
still young, you weren't about to ruin this brilliant man's career over a
fleeting, torrid night.
"Mmm. Then I'm gonna be fathering a lot of damn children in the next few months
before I go back to New York, babygirl."
"Who said I was coming back?" you shot, huffing despite the blush colouring
your cheeks.
"Who says you won't encounter the same thief you did on this night? Perhaps
with your charming husband as company- I'd love to meet him."
"Sir-!"
"Now, robbery is so hard to stop these days, so alas- why try?" 
"I say... Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of State, is not sanctioning indifference
toward criminal behaviour?" you gasped, "And all for what? So he can experience
the great bodily pleasures of a plantation surveyor's simple Virginian
daughter?"
"Nothing about you is simple," he chuckled, "And I've met some extravagant
french mademoiselles, let me tell you." You look down at him, and finally roll
off of his soft cock, back onto cool, satin sheets.
"Thank you for taking us in," you murmured, mouthing kisses along the salty
skin of his left pectoral.
"Thank you, young lady, for allowing me a taste of you in return," Thomas
grinned down, pecking a quick kiss to the junction of your lips.
"My pleasure, sir," you giggled, hugging the sheets to your naked chest,
"Anything to serve my country." He grinned, flipping the sheets over you in
hoping that they would muffle the noises that came next.
They didn't, and your parents woke up the agreeably sunny morning after
wondering if Thomas Jefferson, exotic man that he is, owned any exotic animals
that made noises quite that peculiar.
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