They were good kids, but rarely came to see her. Her husband Misha had, like most Russian men, drank himself to death before he turned 50. He’d alre...dy been dead fifteen years. Olga missed him least of all. Olga pulled her gaze away from the picture and refocused on the task at hand. Standing up, she stepped to the small mirror that hung on the wall and checked her hair and makeup. The garish blue eye shadow was wildly out of fashion, but Olga was not one to throw away perfectly usable. "What did you do to him last night, anyway? Look at him, he's absolutely retarded now!" Me? What makes you think I did anything to him? Maybe it was the other way around. Baby, you saw him in action last night. He's an animal now," she said, smiling affectionately at Steve. "Besides, is it a crime to wake up happy? I'm happy too, you know," she added, bringing my face back to hers for a wet, languid kiss. Sucking my tongue, she moaned when I slid my middle finger into her silky warmth."Mmmmmm,. More

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