I?m not exactly sure what is happening. I touch my breasts again and stretch out my legs. I scoot my fanny under me. With my other hand, I touch betwe...n my legs and sigh?nothing?there is nothing there but a sweet softness. I feel a warm itchy tingling. I haven?t felt anything there in I don?t remember how long. I think of Mr. Chase again?in fact, I haven?t stopped thinking about him.It comes to me that Diane said this would happen, she said?oh I don?t even want to think about what she said, but. Women, dressed like hookers, doing much the same.Why? All because, whether they admitted it to themselves or not, they wantedto get laid. All this pathetic expense over a carnal desire. But Michael wouldnot be led astray; no, he'd given up the nightclub lifestyle a few months ago.Too many expensive rejections. Besides, he had a better way of getting hisend away. She'd be out soon. Her shift usually ended about half an hour after close,assuming she wasn't on clean-up duty. Michael hoped she. I would have filed for divorce if not for two little things: Becky and Sarah; our two daughters.I love those two kids like I'd never loved anything or anyone else on the face of the Earth. They are what it's all about. I was around them every day, taking care of them while Mandy was out, and I was constantly in awe of them; their innocence, their bright, inquisitive minds. They were and are what made each day worthwhile for me. I knew if I divorced Mandy that my time with them would be. The latter was yawning when Sean rang the doorbell, his head repeating 'politely decline' like a broken record... until the door flung open and the woman standing in front of him cut his breath.“Who the fuck are you?” Sean yelped in shock from the sight of a near-perfect clone of Sharon—minus five, maybe ten years—wearing just a sports bra and yoga leggings; no panty line nowhere in sight, nipples protruding through the thin fabric.“Hello to you too,” the younger Sharon shot back, suppressing a.
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