I’ve written something like 40 stories so far. They tend to be quite short, though, because I usually only write until I’ve come, or come enough t... be satisfied and don’t like to draw things out.” Novella pulled her chair up next to me and leaned her head against my arm, looking a bit drowsy but enamoured. Must’ve been the wine.I wondered if the interviewer realized she was in the wrong kind of interview, as she apparently struggled to find words to talk about sex, but she bravely continued. It was wrong of him to bring upthat subject. Max should know that weight was like an aching tooth tomost women, very sensitive. Rhoda was ready to fire back at Max, butthought better. She knew how analytical he was, and if she showed anysign of that comment getting to her, he would harp on it all the time.The lady who was fuming put on her poker face and that put a smile onMax's. He knew exactly which button to push now to stop his wife fromacting childish. The man who wanted his wife to act. Part of that is because I grew up in a rural area east of Cincinnati, but part of it is also that times have changed fairly significantly. My High School years were 1976 through 1981; yours will end in either 1997 or 1998. That makes me, the old man here, sixteen or seventeen years older than all of you who are in High School.“Let me put that in context - when I was born, the Civil War hadn’t been over for a hundred years and World War II had only ended eighteen years earlier. The Mercury. He took a seat and said, “I’ll eat a little bit and then go look at the car.”“There’s nothing wrong with the car,” Terry said. Amanda nudged her in the ribs with an elbow.“Why’d you tell my wife that there was something wrong with it?” Sidney said with a frown.It was tiring holding up the conversation. Terry glanced at Amanda and saw that she was just sitting there trying to look small. Terry smiled and said, “She’s still Daddy’s little girl.”“No, she’s not,” Sidney said.“Yes, she is. She’s.