Bad, bad, bad man.”Frustrated by the lack of progress — neither Dixie Wexler nor Karl Huffstedder had been seen for over a month — I tuned to so...ething I could solve. My sister’s problem. Autumn’s problem.I had to leverage it out of her, but eventually I got her talking. I understood. Sympathized.Autumn was two years older than I am and had always been boy-crazy. Not that I hadn’t enjoyed my share over the years — I certainly had. But for me they were more for fun, for physical enjoyment. For. Returning to my work I flipped through pages and scribbled notes. At last I forgot about the man; that is until I reached for my coffee cup. As I leaned forward, my knees separated and my denim skirt tented at the hem. Snapping my legs together I quickly looked up. Is he looking? I can't tell if he's reading or looking. I need to know.On an impulse, I slowly spread my legs, my eyes darting from his face to the hem of my skirt. When my knees were about twelve inches apart I panicked and quickly. More

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