“I don’t cook every day,” Mitch confessed. “For the most part, I just cook for special occasions, and for the poker club.”“Your cooking is...the only reason I’m a member of this club,” one of the men offered. “I hate poker, but love your cooking.”“For a man that hates poker,” Kate said as she pointed to his stack of chips, “You don’t seem to have a problem pulling in the winnings.”By 9:30 the game has started again and lasted until one of the players announced that he needed to get home. “Once my. Right. Breath grated out of my nostrils because I knew damn well jail was the last place he wanted me. I’m right. I have to be. He’s gonna say it. His eyes spilled dark, erotic novels, the kind I avoided like GMO produce ’cause the last thing I needed bursting up inside was more ideas for kink. I stuck with vanilla sex or the occasional spanking scenario, but the latter usually made me feel sad at my perpetual state of pale. My head began to chime or was it the doorbell? Yes, the door. I. More

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