He never asked where she went. He suspected there was another guy. It didn’t really matter. Either way, she was gone. He saw her at the attorney’s...office a couple of weeks later, before the holidays. She’d cried there too but she still divorced him. As he left that day, he said: ‘Oh, and thanks for the goodbye fuck. It was great, and Merry Fucking Christmas.’ All he had left of her was her engagement ring, which she had left on the nightstand next to their bed after that last night. They’d sold. A classic as he called it, but to me it was just a blue car that needed a carburetor at that time. Our neighborhood was sparsely populated due to the fact that this was a town just starting up, Chandler Arizona. So, there were virtually no kids to play with, and therefore no interruptions in my quest for sexual knowledge. I had the, ‘Holy Grail,’ of sex, right in front of me; I slowly opened the box. The first thing I saw was a bunch of Playboy and Penthouse magazines. I rifled through them. The top she was wearing was a loose fitting crop top leaving lots of bare midriff. Brad licked his lips. “And this is what you're wearing to the mall?” Jarrad jumped in before she could answer. “Looks hot but I'll bet she's still wearing underwear.” “Some guys are never satisfied,” Ashley said huffily as she reached under the back of the crop top. She unsnapped the back of the bra, then pulled the straps out though the arm-holes and around her arms. She reached under the front and pulled the. She was surprised, therefore, to see Tony smiling.“Can you cook?”She nodded, “Of course!”“You know your way with spices, peppers and garlic and such?”“Yes.”“Can you start at once?”“As soon as I can move my belongings.”Tony made his decision. The thought of French cooking made his mouth water.“I would like for you to start at once. Have a look at the house. Stock up the kitchen and the cellar. Get what implements you need to get this household running. There are some crates with china and.