She knocked on the door, and Mr. Ménage answered it a moment later, buttoning his shirt. He was still in his boxers, and Misty could see how hairy h...s legs were. He stepped out of the doorway and invited her in. “Thanks for coming on such short notice, Misty. As you can see, I’m running a little late.” he said. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge, and I should be back by nine or nine thirty.” “Okay, Mr. Ménage. Where’s Pete?” she asked. Pete was his eleven-year-old son. “Oh, you can. Going back up into her dark bedroom I peered over to his room opposite, illuminated, curtains wide and watched, curious to see if he was indeed going to flash. Fifteen minutes passed and nothing stired, I was getting bored, something was needed to get the ball rolling and suddenly the light went on, not the one in the room I stood, the one thats in your head, when you get an idea. Simple, I looked like her, when seen from afar, so everything I did he would think it was her. Bending over her I. More

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