We sat down and talked. Don did most of the talking, but Angie interjected occasionally. She looked to be about five two with a good figure, nice legs...and adequate tits and a nice smile and a confident air about her, not a mousy little housewife type. I guessed she was early forties, perhaps fifteen years younger than Don. She laughed a couple of times when something funny was said, a nice laugh, easy and friendly. Most of the time she looked at me and listened, like she was trying to figure me. Her eyes seemed smaller, angrier. Her over-straightened hair was now a tangle of curls. Her nose looked bigger. She frowned, and showed her teeth. Those were as perfect as I remembered them at least. She looked like a frightened rat, with darting eyes, worn clothing, and messed up hair. Her dress had been polluted with dark flakes.“You--you were Reggie’s friend. We need your--”“Franny, the slut has food.” Vanessa stared down Andrea. “It’s been two days, please!”“Stop!” I said strongly. Vanessa. More

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