Fifteen minutes later Michele threw her soiled blouse and skirt into the laundry basket and went downstairs. She was dressed in a beige skirt, white s...tin blouse, tan low-heels and taupe pantyhose. Although she wore a brassiere she had forgone panties because her pantyhose had a control-top. She had thrown on a little makeup and lipstick; her hair was still wet and she was flushed.Michele’s thirty-two year old daughter Jennifer sat sobbing on the couch; a cup of tea, untouched and cooling on. As she looked at me I recognized her sexy, flirtatious smile. I couldn’t have verbalized it then but the recognition was clear.Somewhere inside my basic sense of masculinity and deep amongst all the things should appeal to it, I recognized this woman as more than she had previously been. She was now an object of intense desire.She removed my running shoes and dropped the clothes on the floor behind her.“Let’s see now, and tell me you won’t be shy.”“No, I won’t be shy.” I slid the towel to my. More

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