” She shrugs. “I just…I thought little Miss Perfect would amount to something more than a Yoga instructor.”“Riiiight.”“I guess with a ma... like Dylan supporting you…”“Supporting me?” I bristle.“I’m assuming rich Daddy didn’t leave Dylan wanting. You surely can’t afford that house and this studio on what you make…”“Okay, I think that’s enough.” I interrupt her there. Did she actually know what my house looked like or was she bluffing? Either way I was done with her. I turn toward the studio. In the meantime, I was living happily ever after with Dave. Or so it would seem to any outsider, who had no idea what was happening. Our sex life had been going along very nicely. We would fuck four or five times a week except when I had the rag on. Those times I would clean his pipes every night. I got to be pretty damn good at giving head. Dave would say that I was the best cock-sucker he'd ever had, and neither the expression nor the gratuitous history bothered me in the least. And I love to. More

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