Tax reached down and squeezed her ass. She squeaked and jumped, glaring at him. “Hey!”“You asked,” Tax said, shrugging.The girl shook her head...slowly. “Okay.” She closed her eyes. “Okay, Mary. Get a grip. Get a grip.” She put her hand over her face and started saying things that, if Tax was any judge of them, made absolutely no sense. They were the kinds of things you’d say if you had cracked your head on a rock. He wondered if he had caught her properly, or flown in the right way. Maybe he had. They reached the tightest point and slipped past. She was suddenly able to shove them six inches lower. Her bottom plunked down on Bobby’s lap again and she started searching for his hand. He had stretched it out, putting it on the back of the seat, but she found his shoulder and pulled until she could reach his hand. He resisted, but only half-heartedly.Had Mindy stopped the car, she could have reasserted control ... and modesty ... on the part of her drug-befuddled daughter. But they were. More

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