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She was in the shower, the hot, steaming water running down her lithe body. Her hair was unbound now, plastered to her back by the water, which fell i... rivulets across her pale skin. Her breasts were very small, probably not even an A-cup, but her nipples were large and bulbous and standing to smart attention.I stared at the glistening, pale body with it's tight abs and round yet firm butt. She turned, water dripping from the mass of black hair at her crotch. She poured soap across her chest. “I think the term was invented on that TV show “Sex in the City.” All of the women had a guy they could call when they were feeling needy. Someone that would come over give them a hard pounding, and leave; no questions asked.”“Have you ever had one?”“Before I found Andy?” Marti asked. “Sure. For five or six years I had a guy that I knew from college. If I was feeling horny, I’d call him up and invite him over for a roll in the hay. He was dating a woman that was a flight attendant and traveled. That was it. I looked at the stacks I’d reserved in the back. They were double prints of two rolls I’d shot on the trip. Two color rolls. There were no black-and-white pictures anywhere in the entire order. I flipped through them for the thirty-ninth time, but it was clear that the illicit sets were not here. At the end of one series, there were four photos of Heather sitting on the rocks by the Montauk lighthouse, still clad in her bikini. Those were the ones I’d taken right before changing to. But I just want to be clear that Grant does, in spite of everything, deserve to be her daddy.”“You mean too, right?” I said.“Well, yes, of course, but since she’ll be living with us. She will be seeing him as kind of her main daddy. I mean would that be okay by you?” she said.“No,” I said. “I can—reluctantly—accept equal, but in no way will I accept being second string. You got that?’ I said.“Look, Lee...” she started. Her tone told me she was determined to relegate me to second place. I pinned.
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