“Like Millie says, Junior is more my type.”She had learned so much about men. It was like junkyard dogs scrapping for a bone. Being the bone gave ...er a certain power over them, which she retained at great cost. It was worth it.“I love it when men just have to be men,” she chuckled to herself.Junkyard dogs were the kind who knew how to howl at the moon—although their meanness could get out of control at times. Men were so predictable. At least, most of them were. Cal confused her.As she kept. We both stumbled when after descending some thirty even yet steep steps of smooth stone, our seeking feet met the surface of the next step higher up that what we had become accustomed to. We were down at the bottom. The darkness was now so deep that the small light-drawn sketch of a door-frame just ahead of us seemed to be growing almost supernaturally bright.My hand found the door, which felt old and crackled, as well as Nightbreeze's groping hands. We both kept silent, me with a thunderous. More

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