When my friend Harvey mentioned his house at the lake, my first response was: “Are you a secret millionaire or something?”

Harv and I both drove work trucks for the county, and he pulled the same salary as me. How the heck did he have a second house?

He laughed in a good-natured way at my confused expression.

“No, not a millionaire,” he told me. “The place belonged to my grandfather, and I ended up inheriting it. It’s just a glorified cabin. But Becky and I get up there three or four times a year. Sometimes more.”

Becky. Lucky Harv was married to Becky, who was a stunningly hot woman with a lovely face and a body that should’ve been sculpted in marble by a master’s hand.

Harvey and I were having an after-work beer at our regular... Read More