When they finished dinner they'd go back to our house. Jeanne would suck his cock and then he'd fuck her. I sat down on my bed and buried my face in m... hands. I couldn't do this. Sharing Jeanne with other men was difficult, but it wasn't an insurmountable problem. I was reasonably certain that given enough time I could learn to accept and maybe even enjoy her affairs. Hearing her talking about doing things for other men that she'd always refused to do for me was the real obstacle. It tore me. Something. And she was that — stunning and, I assumed, a natural redhead. I was able to overlook certain other ... shortcomings.While I had attended a school that tout le mondo cané knows — The University of Missouri, Kansas City — Ms. Sloane went to a college that no one ever heard of, Wharton. Sounds like a book Wandy used to read to me, Wharton Hears a Who.(As an aside, and I am hardly one to tootle my own bugle, intellect-wise, but I did win the Top Speller Prize in fourth grade. A rigorous. More

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