I knew what was going through her head.I sat closer to her. "Why don't we jump 'em at midnight?" I suggested. "Swap partners."She turned to me, her...eyes bloodshot from the pot and booze. "Oh, Steph, are you sure? I really want to, but I don't want to jeopardize our friendship." She held my hand, her eyes pleading.I thought about her husband Ken, blonde-haired, with a nice physique. His hair had started to recede, making him look older than his 30 years, but he was a good-looking man. I. My book is about a cougar who spends her time seducing young men. Of course, it is not autobiographical, at least not yet. It's too hot to wear underwear so I drape a flimsy dress over me and make my way in the village to pick up some bread and cheese for supper, and yes, a nice bottle of dry white wine. I take the scenic route into the village, the scenery being Jon. He works on his father’s farm, and he is very fit. He is 18 but looks a year or two younger; the permanent bulge in his shorts. More

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