“What are you having?”“I was thinking Lagavulin twelve year.” Ainsley took off her jacket and hung it on a wooden coat rack, then walked up to...Nick and turned her back to him. “It seemed like a very Mad Men thing to drink before an afternoon tryst. Unzip me, please?”Nick looked down at the zipper on her skirt. “I don’t remember agreeing to a tryst this afternoon, Ainsley.”“You’re here. Aren’t you?” Ainsley looked back over her shoulder. “Did you walk me over here to talk about utopians and. She sighed wistfully at that. A girl should be properly modest. Bright colors drew the eye and attracted the wrong sort. Her parents had told her that time after time.She slipped on her clunky black shoes, ran her brush through her hair, securing it with a band, and headed to the kitchen and breakfast."There are days I wish you were like other girls," her mother grumbled when Cheryl sat down at the kitchen table. "Your sisters don't have to get up for school for another hour." My sisters aren't. More

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