”“He does this every year,” said Barbie, to Monica. “He insists Santa is real.”“Because he is,” said Bob, his voice calm.“It’s okay,...Daddy,” said Barbie, as if she were talking to an Alzheimer patient. “We understand.”“So, this is to keep me from having sex with your brother ... right?” suggested Monica.“Originally, it was,” admitted Julie. “But now we really want to get to know you better. You can have sex with him any time you want when you go back home.”“Or here, too,” said Barbie. “I mean. Long and lean, she guessed him at over 6 feet tall with dark brown hair, cut in a popular style, the ends curling at the nape of his neck. His eyes sparkled with amusement and were framed with thick dark lashes, the kind any woman would kill for. He was rugged and masculine looking, Julie fleetingly wondered if he was single, then quickly brushed the thought aside. Blushing, she cleared her throat and ordered a vodka lemonade. His eyes roamed her body appreciatively and she caught the hint of. More

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