The owner, whoeveryone called Uncle Owen even if they weren't related, looked andtalked something like Clint Eastwood in a Dirty Harry movie excepttha... he had a beard. He often wore a pistol in a hip holster, usuallyunloaded but it still fit the image of a frontier sheriff or somethinglike that. He even called himself the Sheriff of his little town,which consisted of the motel and nothing more.Owen's motel was fun for us k**s but Dad worried about us being arounda "kook" like the Sheriff. Owen. A single battle had changed much for them. Not only had they succeeded in their goal, but the joining threads of trust were forming. Gallea and Bellerophon, in particular, had proven themselves. He was happy he could save the fox’s life in the battle, in return for saving his own, and the mischievous little horned creature’s life thereafter. Perhaps the journey would not be a slog of guard dog duty for Medusa, but an actual journey, with conversation, and growth for those within.He laughed.. ..laptop hadn't been shut down properly. She clicked yes automatically, not even thinking. The laptop immediately booted up and she realized it'd opened to a porn website. She'd felt herself flush with embarrassment and quickly went to shut the laptop. Something caught her eye though. She'd seen porn before, sure, but this was different. These were images of girls with animals. There were dogs, horses, goats, all sorts of things. She'd found herself clicking through videos of girls being. Paul came out in his Speedo, Tyler in his short suit, and Charlene and I wore our nice bikinis. Nice in the sense of legal. She passed out the water and I filled the wine glasses. Poor Paul couldn't decide whom to look at. He shouldn't have to.When we were seated and enjoying the bubbles, Charlene asked, "Ready for a parlor game?"Paul said, "I read about this one. Everyone tells a story about making out with someone. When they finish, we have to guess if they stopped or went all the way. The.