”Then it was the weekend, and on Monday she nervously approached us. “You haven’t told anyone.”“We said we wouldn’t,” Bondy assured her....��We are your friends. You can come and talk to us at any time, about anything, and if you tell us it’s for our ears only, then it’s for our ears only,” I said softly.“You’re not my friends,” she whispered.“If we weren’t your friends,” Bondy said equally softly, “then we wouldn’t care about how you feel, and we might have told someone.”She looked at us, pale,. .. without a blowjob, a handjob, or a quick fuck."I look up from my book at Brooke and Sierra. Both girls have expectant looks on their faces, as if they believe they are entitled to an explanation. In their limited experience, nobody gets a free drink at the Purring Kitten unless they're prepared to take one of the girls upstairs.I give them a sly grin."I told you Halloween was going to be a slow night." Slow?" Brooke's lovely face assumes a petulant expression that reminds me that she is. .. he had licked her pussy, and fucked her. Blake had fucked her virgin ass. And she had eaten it all up like a whore. But now she felt dirty, and ashamed. And guilty. What had she done? What had she been THINKING? She groaned in despair, and then she felt the mattress shift behind her."Good morning. How did you sleep?" Meg recognized the deep, masculine voice of Blake, and felt his warm body pressing against her naked back. She lay frozen, emotionally torn between the shame of the dirty, nasty. There was a novel that was a third of the way finished, a half dozen first chapters that had never made it beyond page ten or twenty, and various bits and snippets that didn't even look familiar to him. He opened the abandoned novel and read the first few pages, only to shake his head and conclude that this particular one wasn't likely to see the light of day. The idea had been good enough—it was supposed to be an insightful and clever story about a small Maine mill town that finds itself.