She had glanced at my business card, didn’t ask to keep it. Didn’t ask to see my press credentials — one woman trusting another. Trusting a fuck...ng liar, but there you go.I sat through 15 minutes of photo albums, scrapbooks, dating back to high school. Newspaper and magazine articles as Arlington worked his way up to the Bigs.“Heather, my feature is about the team behind the team. What about the boy behind the man? What was Duke like? You know, growing up without a father.”And we were off. An. I wanted to say yes but could only nod.Her fingers deftly opened the remaining buttons revealing her bra for just a moment before she unhooked a clasp at her cleavage and it fell open and her creamy white mounds fell out. Her cherry red nipples stood out in contrast against her curving skin.“Touch them”, she whispered, taking my hands and placing them on her tit. She showed me how to fondle and squeeze them, purring, how to pinch and caress her nipples. She stroked my hair and drew my face to. More

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