As her blouse slid over her shoulders and down her arms, our lips touched again as it hit the floor. Stepping back, she pulled my uniform shirt from m... body and tossed it to the floor. Standing there with her breasts covered by only a thin white laced bra, I began to open the buttons on the side of her skirt. It too was soon was lying on the floor as she kicked it to the side along with her shoes. I stood back and took in her sweet young beauty. She was so small and petite, especially. Betsy Strohman? Well, the last time I had seen her she didn’t have any use for God, and as far as I could tell she never would. Their marriage had become…interesting. Betsy was a very impractical woman in an implacably practical world, and Liz was a lot like her mother in so many ways. As I watched mother and daughter at lunch that first afternoon back in Charleston, the parallel contours of their lives became very clear, yet where Betsy was rapacious in her lust for power and control, Liz was. More

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