I just poured coffee.” I stuck out my hand, “Karen Post.”He shook, took off his hat and slapped dust from his jeans.He came in ... sat down at t...e table ... took up his cup and made an exploratory sip. His face brightened.“What did you put in this?”“Fresh ground coffee.”“Tastes like chocolate ... sweet chocolate. Sugar?”“Just Coffee.”This is very good,” he said. “You gotta tell my wife how you make coffee.”“Driveway.”“I’m betting the ruts are so deep they cast a shadow at noon.”“Throws me all. Her mother was Connie, my old English teacher. She was also a knockout, at least back in high school she had been. I guess she was still in her thirties then, with a slim athletic body, tight ass, firm titties and a beautiful smile. Most of the boys in school thought she was hot, and they all fantasized about her, and that helped make Helen seem hands-off to many of them.“How’s Mrs. Connie doing?” I asked.“Okay, I guess. But it’s Miss Connie now. She and my father split up a couple years ago,. More

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