Mom was only ten minutes behind him and she was just as appreciative. Dad had made coffee and she got a cup and sat down at the table.“Remind me not...to drink while I play bridge,” she said.She didn’t look hung over. If anything she was bright and beautiful. She had this knack, no doubt a holdover from her modeling days, of always looking fresh and rested. She didn’t wear (or need) a lot of makeup. In the old pictures of her she had long hair like Hannah, but she’d cut it short when we were born. But I felt that someone is watching me, it was Dmitry Vasilyevich. It was obvious that he liked my looks, he blushed shamefacedly and went away.I was amused and decided to have a fun. Since then, every time, when he came to our house I wore the most short skirts, black nylon pantyhose and blouses with such decollete and cutouts that, seems, have been covered only my nipples and navel. Bra I selected such that made my breasts stood like two cannons.My dad was so engrossed in his business that. More

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