TWISTED STUBBORN LOVE
By now, my cheeks were the color of the cranberry sauce on the table.
I adored Missy. I met her a week ago, when Alex and I arrived at her and Ralph’s Vermont farm for an extended Thanksgiving weekend, but I immediately took a shine to her. Warm, friendly, and down-to-earth, she baked a mean pumpkin pie and had a penchant for raunchy jokes—and raunchy personal stories.
This morning, out of the blue, she asked whether I’d ever had a threesome—I hadn’t—and I’d nearly sprayed orange juice all over her cherrywood table.
Bab Populer