Carl was now, after that ritual of sorts, officially part of the scene. He was also now part of an eclectic, but classic, mix of middle America. An ol... man, sitting at the back, and most likely coming there since the restaurant was new. A woman with two kids fussing over the egg yoke on her son's shirt put on fresh that very morning. A couple obviously driving through and angry that there was no golden arches to eat under, and the local sheriff still watching him with a cop's eyes. A cop, Carl. No man had dared kiss her, for fear of her father. And even had she wanted one to, her mother had instilled in her the ways of a Lady. A Lady wasn’t supposed to get her skirts dirty, was to smile prettily and sit quietly while the men talked. And most of all, a Lady was not to be familiar with a man that was not her husband! He strode into a cabin and kicked the door shut behind him. He slid her to her feet, his muscular arm locked around her waist crushing her breasts against him. She knew he. More

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