Mandingo Ruins This Indian Chick

I don't think I've ever met a person named Ken.“Why was that?”“Distracted. You know-” I shimmied my shoulders back and forth making my breasts...sway.Ted cocked an eye, looking stern, “And what were you doing?”Jealousy. How did he want this to play out? I decided to be bad, nineteen-fifties bad. “Jumping jacks,” I said. Then I thickened the plot as innocently as I could, “You know we’ve been going steady since after New Year, Daddy.”“Yes, of course,” he improvised. I could see him enjoying his. “Do you smoke weed?” I asked. “Hell, yes,” he replied. “Come on over here on the porch.” I headed over and sat on the lounger sofa where he’d settled in. I lit the joint, took a big toke, and passed it to him. This was primo, two-hit Diesel weed. But we passed it back and forth three or four times, and were both getting very buzzed. He started laughing and asked if I would be able to work between the smoke and the booze. “No problem,” I replied and returned to work. I decided to head out front. More

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