My fetish, you see, is what I now recognize to be an insatiable lust for lies, and it is also the basis of my committed relationship with my short, ex...remely cute, busty, big-assed brunette wife Hannah.Hannah didn't just lie to me to conceal her promiscuity, though, she would lie to me to manipulate me. She would tell me all about how hard she worked, how stressed out she was about school, how broke she was, how much she cleaned and cooked, and how nice she was to me. And I ate it up because it. Almost reluctantly Luke moved his hand away from me, he was smiling as he raised his hand to his nose and sniffed at his fingers."You smell nice," he grinned "I bet you taste nice too." Cheeky bugger." I laughed "Just watch it sonny Jim." I have been and I enjoyed the view." my son laughed back.There was nothing I could say to that so I laughed while wondering just what the hell had got into me, this was my son I was flirting with yet I was enjoying his attentions as if he had been my late. "That was the reason I passed theknitting skill down to you. It is the reason that everything in thistrunk must be passed on to you."It contained a locket. Her diary that he didn't know she had. Itcontained jewelry that had been passed down from generations.She put the locket around his neck. In it were portraits of hisgrandmother and his mother when she was a little girl."Wear it under your clothes so your father won't see it," she said. "Youknow how she is."Charlie hugged Beatrice before. It was an unlikely script. And it all started with, ‘I love your haircut’.Coco Chanel once stated, ‘A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life’. It’s true. I was announcing, without really announcing, ‘moving on’ with the ‘breakup cut’. The let’s-cut-it-all-off-haircut was a statement of personal empowerment, an adieu to an affecting three-year relationship with a Hungarian woman I had fallen madly in love with during my sabbatical in London. My first serious lesbian relationship. I.