She wished she had goggles, but the salt water did not bother her eyes that much. Maybe they had gotten used to the salty sweat in those hot fields. ...Her mind wandered, to her past undercover work, to her two years as the prison's only naked inmate, to what she should do now. The only certain thing was that she was tired. It was now too dark to see the island, but she sensed the water getting a little warmer. Her toes reached down and found pebbly sand. She staggered onto the beach, water. One out of thirty, not bad."Missy, who won?"She licked her lips. "Bianca, the pretty blonde always wins, right? She gets a doting husband, a handsome dolt who adores her." She looked around. "That's winning isn't it?" Anybody else - Mike? Come on, you always have an opinion." Petruchio, obviously. He tames the shrew, weds her and beds her." He extended both arms and smiled broadly. "The end. Curtain." Hard to argue about that, but let me suggest another way to look at it. When the play begins,. More

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