Leftists are disgusting faithless unfaithful people. This is what you would expect from them, filth, lies, deception, infidelity, satanism and betrayal.
She was the DOJ 7th floor office trampoline.
So it wasn’t enough that the three of them were spending all that time trying to screw Trump...
Fedgov is legs spread.
Yeah she gets passed around more than hors d’oeuvres at a cocktail party.
Sounds like she had a few cocktail parties of her own :)
Lying like a rug is apparently not the only thing she does well on her back.
Nothing like being a slut to sleep your way up the ladder.
Some are successful.
This gummy tramp must be proud of herself.
If she’d been bi she never would have gotten any work done!
She must have some.....uhhhh...."skills". Sure isn't because of her looks.
"Lisa you ignorant slut!"
Love it!!! Maybe this is connected to his dropping civil suit for wrongful termination. Discovery you know
The DOJ needs fumigation to get rid of all the creepy-crawlies. The place is rife with vermin.
Just what exactly was I supposed to read at that site you posted? Nothing there but ads.........
“Well I wouldn’t be much of an executive if I slept my way to the bottom!” she was heard to say.
Mccabe’s wifey will not be happy...
Adam Fisch Has to Die
Stephen Kroszt arrived near the meeting place first, more than an hour early, but Paige Lissat didn’t know that. It was exactly quarter past nine in the morning when, as arranged, she first jogged past the isolated picnic table located in a remote corner of Washington DC’s 2,000-acre Rock Creek Park. She jogged hundreds of yards up and down the trail past the designated meeting point several times in both directions before Kroszt emerged from the woods. She nearly broke out laughing when she realized that the elderly man shuffling through the fallen leaves toward the table was indeed her former lover.
Kroszt looked nothing like the dashing head of counterintelligence (and one of the youngest members of the elite Special Executive Service) whom she had fallen in love with. Instead, unkempt tufts of gray hair matching a gray beard protruded from beneath his battered fedora. He was wearing a shabby oatmeal-colored tweed jacket, khaki pants, and scuffed walking shoes. Binoculars hung from a strap around his neck, and an olive-green messenger bag was slung over his shoulder. Wire-rimmed glasses and a puffy fake nose completed his camouflage.
In stark contrast, Paige Lissat was wearing form-fitting blue sportswear, her light zipper jacket matching her jogging pants and running shoes. Wraparound sunglasses concealed her eyes in spite of the deep shade in the woods on the overcast autumn morning.
When he neared the table, she stopped jogging and said, “How long were you going to let me run up and down these hills? My pulse must be 200. I haven’t been running in months, not since all this started. I hardly get out anymore.” She leaned against a nearby tree, stretching out her long legs in turn.
He said, “You weren’t followed? I mean, from your house, or at any other point?”
[rest at link]
Lisa “Peanut Butter Thighs” Page