.”“Hey wait a minute, what gives? Where’s your swimsuit, Neal?”Neal took a nervous swig of the drink he’d meant to put some cola into first,...or at least some ice. It hurt his throat and made his eyes water a little.“Oh, uh, that’s just ... It’s under my jeans, I gotta get dressed” he coughed.Morgan stepped closer, heels clicking atop the floor tiles, and leaned past him to reach for the kitchen counter. Neal’s eyes were too busy running laps around her exposed skin to notice what she was taking. "Assistant curators don't make much, but Ihaven't had anyone to spend my salary on but me for years, and I'vemanaged to save--well, quite a bit, actually."Amanda sniffed. She was crying.I took that as a good thing.* * *An hour later, we'd driven across town, to the local mall. Amandaneeded new clothes--a whole wardrobe of them--and accessories. Sheneeded a new look, too--hair, makeup, the works. I had a plan tochange her life--and mine--for the better. But, first, we had tochange her.Don't. More

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