One night, Alison asked me, “What would you say if I brought home a boyfriend again?” The question came out of nowhere, just as we were finishing up dinner on our balcony. I’d grilled the steaks to a turn, and they went perfectly with the bottle of wine we’d picked up on our last trip to the local vineyard. At the moment, I didn’t feel much like moving, let alone asking questions. But I replied, “What do you mean by ‘boyfriend?’”

“You know. A guy. For me to fuck.”

I swirled the wine in my glass and couldn’t suppress my smile as I said, “For me to watch fucking you, you mean.”

Alison shrugged and replied, “Whatever.”

She’s 24 but looks younger with jet black hair that hangs down to her butt... Read More