M. And I didn't feel like moving.Moira and Saralinda were cuddled together ignoring me. Actually, I don't think they knew I was awake. The window was ...ehind them, and Moira's hair glowed like an aura around her head. She was whispering to Saralinda, and stroking her face. They looked supremely happy. I didn't want to disturb them, but I did need to pee. As quietly as I could, I slipped out of bed and made a run to the bathroom.They hadn't moved by the time I returned, but they did both look at. With righteous indignation, she reminded Joan that she was a married woman, and that her baby probably wasn't even her husband's, naming half a dozen guys who claimed getting into her pants.With her usual cool, Joan smiled at Linda and said, "Don't get catty on me, honey, I can work up a pretty good list of guys who claim to getting into your britches, too."Linda backed off. "Just stay away from my daddy," she said."No way," Joan countered. "He likes it when I flirt with him, and he is an. She had told Tom that she didn’t want Ricky to come around for dinner at the house again. She had put her foot down and told him that they should talk work at the office and not bring it back home, and if he needed to stay after hours or at weekends to discuss plans with Ricky better that than his coming back to the house again. Tom had been surprised by her outburst, but conceded readily enough once he had seen how agitated she was. He had not understood her reaction, but like a typical male. He sighed deeply; this was exactly what he needed. He took one last pull from his beer, wincing, it had warmed while he waited. When he rose to his feet, a few people cautiously noted it. Over six feet tall, dressed in a biker's leathers, he cut an imposing figure. He rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder and pushed his knuckles on his chin, enjoying the satisfying click of his joints. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms like a boxer prepping for a fight. It was go time.His boots.
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