They fantasized, and she liked to imagine their fantasies.These days she was good at it. She could tell in a minute whether they would want it hard or...gentle, whether they would take her in the aisles at the hardware store or meet her in an expensive hotel. She liked knowing; she teased them with it, subtly in the ways she walked or brushed a little too close so that her scent hung in the air between them. She watched them stiffen, watched them try to focus on the pipe fittings or lumber, and. I walked in, and as soon as I got a look at her wide, innocent face, I knew something was wrong. I could tell she had been crying for some time; and her long, straight, honey-blonde hair was a tangled mess. "Honey, what's wrong?" I asked; fearing what the answer would be. "Don't honey me, you damn bastard!" she snarled. My worries were confirmed. We were about to play out the same old script one more time; or so I thought. "Oh, Jesus," I sighed. "Not this again!" "You think I wouldn't find out,. More

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