In the meantime, Victoria's frightened yelps were turning into snarls of righteous rage as she discovered she was holding her own against this strange...man who had obviously tried to kidnap her only seconds before. In a few more seconds, as she realized that her attacker was no longer fighting back, Victoria backed away so she could see everyone in the room, prepared to fight again, if necessary. Her eyes widened as she realized that the man holding Cherrill was none other than Michael, the son. She slammed her door shut and yanked John toward her bed. Her bedroom floor was a collage of girlish panties, bras and shoes. An empty laundry basket was shunned into a corner, next to a basic algebra textbook. Probably from this year, John thought, Stacey wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the package. But her neatly sharpened and painted nails were rummaging through his shirt and he couldn’t think about anything but that. He thought of her pigtails, held up with purple rubber bands, how it looked. More

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