He was a thick, hefty kid. Lysette thought that was cool as hell and was sharp enough to feel responsible about it, too. She was hardly a prude. Lysette watched the agitated fraidy cat standing in her window as she began to think hard. Oh Lordy, Jack. Lysette had no inkling of why that should be, either. At least you’ll be out of here a little bit. More Gramma-like was the only way Lys could describe it. Her clothing and undies, along with her attitude, might be the stuff of the chaste and Holy lately but there was a devilishly sexy imp in the woodpile. It’s home and I love that about it but in every other way, Auldburg is killing me. Maybe a bit too big, but just a bit. When her long, long legs stretched up to the sun, parted just enough to make them wish she’d spread’em further, cute feet wiggling as she talked on the phone, things got tense.
