He was brushing his hair with almost feminine thoroughness and seemed a bit distracted by recent events."Misty, I don't seem to have control of my lif... anymore! That silly bitch, Veronica, told her husband, the judge that we were bonking in the pantry and I swear all we did was just get a little stinky finger. Now, my father has threatened to cut me off without a penny unless I marry that slut, April Bentbottom before the end of this very month."He sat on the edge of the sofa and Misty could. She came towards him, spreading her arms wide. And then his lips were on hers, her soft warmth melting into his. He remembered what the Song of Solomon said of this - honey and milk are under your tongue. He felt his body responding; he knew she could feel it too."STOP staring at my legs like that!" What?" You know damn well what. I am not a mannequin for your enjoyment!"Stacy's face was red with anger.Slowly, Mitt's eyes refocused. The daydream faded. This was not a wedding night. He wasn't in. More

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