" No you're not. You're a writer, you can do housework anytime. And remember, we roomed together, so I know you. You're not busy, you're lazy." Busy."...Laaazzzyyyy." Oh, whatever, Jerry. Look, I can afford it, so I hired her." How long has she been working for you?" Let's see... about four months I guess." Did you build a cute little maid's room out back?" She's a housekeeper, not a maid. 'Maid' sounds sooo old money, and nineteenth-century. She only comes over for a couple hours on Saturday. He lost it completely, breaking into laughter. Smiling widely herself, Anne stood up and held out her hand to Stan."Come on, Stan. We don't have to make out on the couch like teenagers stealing moments before Mum comes back. Come upstairs."She smoothly stood, holding out her long, slender arm to him. Stan took it and pushed himself up with his other arm. She led him up the stairs, looking back twice to smile at him, desire plain on her face.For his part, Stan was moving on autopilot. His mind. More

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