You might even call it stupidity or blindness.I'd still call it love.I considered hiring a detective. It made me shudder with apprehension. It also ma...e me feel ridiculous. Images of shabby, whiskey-gobbling raincoat-wearers came to mind. Ah shit... was this really me thinking? A Private Eye? Wake up, man. This is Betty we are talking about. My Libby, remember? Besides, do they really exist outside these cheap pocketbooks from the fifties? Mickey Spillane? Raymond Chandler?Give me a break.But I. Wow! - she couldn't believe her eyes. The lingerie and dresses werequite large sized but the massive shoes tipped her off that these wereworn by a man. And the toys - the incredible variety and number of them,she fondled each one and even sucked on a few dildoes.Daisy was in her early 40s, married no kids, about five feet three andvery curvy. She was always horny and very dominant, which suited herhusband well. Michael was an accountant, free-lance with a home office,and loved having Daisy call. More

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