“Did she finally kill Barry?” I asked.“First of all nobody killed Barry,” John said.“Shit there goes any chance of a story with a happy endi...g,” I said. “So what did she do?”“She didn’t do anything. Barry claims she assaulted him Thanksgiving night,” John said. Then added, “she didn’t do it.”“Hell, she was just suspect one. I assure you I’m suspect two.” I informed him.“I thought that might give you a good reason to give me a hand,” John said.“How did you get conned into this?” I asked.“When. Lola often used this visual when imagining him stripping them both naked in his room, dreamed of reaching out and actually touching him. She imagined what it’d feel like to touch those hard muscles, to run her fingers to through his thick hair to have his strong hands and long manly fingers touch her in return, wondered what his strokes and caresses would feel like, to feel his hands all over her body, cupping her big firm milky breasts, tightly squeeze her small pink nipples. She longed to. More

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