"She's drunk." She drinks?" Among other things." I opened the door. "I'll talk with her and she'll pass out on the couch." Virginia! I know you're in ...here! Open the damn door!"I've dealt with Joyie before when she's been drinking. She's usually like Otis, the town drunk, on Andy Griffith, but whatever she was at the moment, was as far from Mayberry as The Bronx. So, when I opened the door I was braced for a fight. I wasn't prepared to see her dad's service revolver in her hand.Feeling my heart. I wore glasses instead of contacts, and a sharp, ballerina bun in my hair instead of letting it fall down in thick waves to meet my still developing ass. I turned down the boys who had eyes only for my blooming bosom, limiting my romantic experiences only to a rather grandiose imagination. I dreamed of white knights, clean of blood and sweatless even after hours of battle, embracing me for secret kisses on full moons. I dreamed of saving myself for marriage. But here I was, lying exhausted and. More

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