Therapy last week. My son's girlfriend coming home crying and upset about some crazy driver cutting her off. She said he looked like the devil.That pi...ture was in my mind as she started talking to him; I was walking away but caught something about molesting. Brother. Nothing real clear.I filed that away and then suddenly my wife's trip to a work conference was upon us.I am the designated airport delivery driver. Friends and family alike. Designated driver for anything since I do not drink and I. I’ll never understand how the girl in sixth grade making fun of the future farmers of America drank the koolaid and joined the cult. For our scholarship program we had to do so many hours of community service. We signed up to be student assistants in the ag department. We did bond right back together like the bobsey twins. But she was still a dork. I talked about boys, skipping school, drinking and smoking pot. Just like those uppity bitches in seventh grade she acted like I was sacrificing. Lauren is smooth and I have to remind myself that she works in PR and to tread lightly. If there’s anything Lauren can do, it’s be persuasive. I know, because I play the same game.“You’re going to an awful lot of trouble to get me to say yes to dinner,” I say back.“Is it working?”I smile into the phone. She’s infuriating but Lauren can’t help but be charming.“Not yet, but you can keep trying.”“I accept that challenge.”“I’m absolutely going to regret saying that.”And we’re flirting again. I need. Julia has been moping for a week. She thinks you hate her. But if you open that door and she sees us, she’ll hate you forever. I think it’s better if you let her go on believing you don’t want anything to do with her.’ Roger sat up, pushed off the bed and headed for the living room, for the intercom. Sandra was right behind him and, as they reached the intercom, she pressed her body against his back, hugged him. ‘Don’t do it, Roger,’ she pleaded, her hand going to his cock. ‘I love you, Roger..