Maybe it was my car? Maybe it was my looks? Who knows? Jessica is now 36yrs old, very tall, ex volleyball player now a volleyball coach, brunette with...the finest big apple butt ass out there, with a huge shaved cameltoe, and elegant manicure pedicure. After all these years I couldn't even dare to come close to her. Then suddenly one Saturday night everybody was away at the village for a weird reason and she stayed back alone. My parents and sister were gone too. I was alone and recently broke. "What kind of winter sports, Mark? There are too many trees around there for skiing." Oh, I imagine Stu could think of some indoor sports -- especially with you around," the friendly-faced husband grinned. "Really, Nat, we ought to go up and help him out... Remember how well those kids did on their psychological development tests, after you gave them that photography lesson..." He winked exaggeratedly and the dark-haired young woman laughed aloud."Let's look at those pictures, Mark," she purred. I guess I've wasted a lot of time and money on costumesand lessons." Not necessarily," I said in an effort to console him. "Perhaps youcould do stag parties and smokers after you complete your main mission.In the meantime, why don't you consider wearing something a little moremodest...and a little less feminine?" "Jolly good idea! I have just the thing," Lt. Lawrence cried andscurried behind a changing screen. In no time at all he reappeared in acompletely different outfit."Gosh, Mr. Peabody,". No speeding tickets or axe murders, nothing. They let me have a phone call so I called Lynn.“Hi Paul! Where are you?” Good old caller ID.“Hi honey, I am in jail.”CricketCricketCricketThe silence was deafening. I was weaving as I stood at the desk with the phone. I was not sure that I could maintain this cool exterior of being stone cold sober. (Like anyone who is drunk on their ass can do). Lynn knew from my voice that I was first, drunk, and second that I was ok.“Where are you? Which jail?”“I.