"Welcome home", she said, seductively.Mrs. Tate or Sandy as she prefers laid on the couch wearing nothing except for my long leather jacket. Despite h...r age she looked pretty hot in that jacket. Her right shoulder sticking out, one smooth, shaven leg on top of the other, and a new shade of pink nail polish on her toe nails. This was one surprise I never anticipated."I hope you don't mind", she said, "but it got a little chilly in here."It was actually warm outside but it was going to get hotter. I had just started waiting tables at an oyster bar in Clearwater when I met Barney.” “Oh, Sandy,” I responded sympathetically, taking her in my arms to let her cry a little. I really felt bad for her. Sure, she was a gold digging tramp, but she had a good heart. She was dumb, though, and still hadn’t figured out that one way or another, we all have to pay for what we get. Like the song says, every form of refuge has its price. “How old is Cheyenne now?” I asked, very conscious of how warm her. More

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