" Sorry, Mom," John said.It was a team joke. Danielle Sullivan was middle-aged and chunky. Blonde curls framed a round, homely face. She was from the ...merican Midwest and about as conservative as they came. Until he'd met her, John hadn't thought people like Sullivan existed outside of lazy parodies of American culture. He'd even made an ill-advised quip about it not long after they'd been introduced."I didn't think it possible for biologists to come out of your neck of the woods. I thought. The warmth of her body pressed against mine, her soft breasts, her rippled tummy, her mound rubbing against the bulge in my pants, it reminded me of what Christmas is all about – the spirt of giving, or in my case, giving me a hard-on. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whimpered, her face buried in my chest, ‘it’s just that it’s been so long…’ By this time my hand was touching the small of her back, inching up under her sweater. Her skin was soft, warm, inviting. ‘Morgan?’ I asked, inhaling the pine bough smell. More

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