It didn't hurt that she had already found the ideal solution—let Jo handle it.The staff respected me. Sheila was fast becoming the Lady of the House... Jo was the brat with a mean streak. Where the joke was practical or verbal, everyone in the room had reason to tread lightly. They had since she was twelve. If you ever saw Private Benjamin, think of the RIT dye scene. Better yet, the dye bomb in Raising Arizona. Jo was ingenious, persistent and could not be bought. No one fucked with little. Jane was about five foot six, with slim hips and an ample bosom, wearing jeans and a sweater. Her shape was immediately noticeable. Her high cheeks, full lips and big brown eyes were the reason I'd been drawn to her picture, and now I could see her long mousy-brown hair. Her friend was smaller, with short blonde hair. Her frame was somewhat slight, but she was still an attractive girl."Hello, I'm Jane, and this is my friend, Abby," she said, holding her hand out for me to shake.Abby stood back. More

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