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“Morning, Dad,” she said with a shy smile, her mismatched eyes studying me as she came out of the bathroom wearing a thick white terry robe. Tendr...ls of hair had escaped her ponytail to frame her face. She looked so sweet.“You better get up. It’s six-thirty.”“So?”She gave another shy smile. “It’s Monday.”Oh shit!In the rush to get to work, I managed a goodbye kiss and a fond caress of her jean-clad ass.The day dragged endlessly, a yawning chasm of time moving at a sluggish pace. I was impatient. The tall, aristocratic looking blond man stood next to the bed, mostly dressed, but his pants were still unzipped, his shirt unbuttoned. Her mother, dressed a silk wrapper, her long, curly black hair wild and loose, stood on the opposite side of the bed. The huge bed between them was a mess of expensive tangled sheets. The light in the room was dim and French remembered how candlelight had flickered across the ceiling and could recall the musky floral scent the candles had emitted. Her mother,. More

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