Apparently, Michael and my brother Peter had been scratching each other’s itches, a lot. Sex videos “Michael, thank God!” she gasped. Actually, with my travel schedule, I barely had any time for a social life, but when I did, I wanted a man who was ready to scratch my itch, if you know what I mean. “Oh God, I want you,” I moaned, my mouth suddenly dry. I wasn’t ready to go hang out with some hulking would-be rapist, but the girl on the phone didn’t sound that threatening. Michael had enrolled in this program and I’d moved in with him for awhile so he wouldn’t be all alone. Nothing spooked a prospect like uncertainty. I wouldn’t say I dressed like a slut, but my skirts were shorter, my heels higher, and everything generally tighter than I would have preferred them to be. “Nonsense; you’re smokin’, Linnea.”
“Freezing is what I am.” The air conditioning was blowing right on me, leaving my poor nipples feeling like tiny ice cubes. I took the foam hanger Stacey handed me and hung the blouse on it, then hooked it on the shower rod to dry some more. There was this intense-looking girl seated by herself at a table, staring hungrily at every woman that entered the place. She sounded like she was in trouble.
