The sheets were clean and fresh. After remaking the bed, she looked in the closet. Carrie's clothes were there, hanging neatly, and her robe was on a ...ook on the backside of the door. The dirty clothesbasket on the floor of her closet was empty. Nothing. Nothing except the made-up bed. Not proof positive, but certainly damning. She debated whether to approach Darrin or Carrie to ask why his sheets were being washed and not hers. Carrie, she decided. Darrin would merely shrug. He doesn't have. So am I looking at her boobs, knowing I won’t get to see or fondle them. Suddenly a smile breaks her gloomy face, “An honest man. Now that’s a first.” WE both laugh. Taking hold of my hand she leads me away, I enquire, “Where shall we eat. You’re local, you choose.” With her breast firmly held against my arm we move with purpose to a small café. “Wouldn’t you like a posh restaurant?” “No,” she says. “Some men think that buying a girl a meal entitles them to take liberties. So we’re eating here. More

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