We all agreed we were getting hungry. Wewent back to our towels, and packed things up. All seven ofus walked to the parking lot. Their car was obvious...ycloser to the beach than ours since they were there beforeus. Debbie and I exchange e-mail addresses, and gave eachother a big hug.Back to the original four of us, we jumped into Dave's carand headed out of the parking lot. Tim picked up his cellphone and ordered a pizza for delivery, and gave them myaddress. As he hung up the phone he commented. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”“No.”“Why not?”“Because I know you. You’d get all curmudgeonly about it.”“Because I should be curmudgeonly in this situation?”“No. You should take advantage of me in this situation.”“Is that so?”“Yes. I’m a helpless little lamb, and I have to sleep with the big, bad wolf, because of the snow storm.”“So now I’m a wolf? I thought I was a curmudgeon.”“You’re supposed to be a wolf,” she said, snuggling in. Her hand drifted down my body until it hit pubic. That pair of legs hypnotized him, mesmerized him and put a spell on him, for he worshiped every part of them: from slender soles and small, perfect toes, to gorgeous ankles and first, athletic calves, perfect knees to luscious, hot thighs that ended in that amazing, round, apple shaped ass of his wife. He let out a moan of pleasure when she started to slow dance to the music and to undress the stockings that she put on a few minutes ago. It was slow, agonizing, it was a torture to watch her –. Connor. I didn't see any close resemblance between Mama and Uncle Bunny, or with either of them, and Mrs. Connor. Mama, turned the page of the album, and there was a long lock of hair, stored in a semi clear, Glassine envelope. It was copper colored, almost the exact same shade as Brenda's. Beneath the hair, in a neat cursive script, was writing. 'Ronald Chalmers, age ten.' I didn't know who Ronald Chalmers was. Mama's father's name was Senior Chalmers. I looked over at her for further.