Daughter s Little FriendChapter 7
It was a Sunday morning, and summer was just about over. Alice Murphy turned over lazily in her large double bed, sensuously stretching her long curvaceously formed limbs, and swept her honey-blonde hair from her eyes. She languidly let the soft fuzziness of sleep leave her and warmly thought about last night--and the long, wonderfully delicious parade of days and nights since that fateful weekend when she and Sandy had been blackmailed. She propped herself up on her elbows and saw that her...