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Come on in.’ His eyes traced her neckline, her curves, and settled on her tightly bound breasts. Then back to her eyes. Hey, I saw that, she thought... ‘Please, get comfortable.’ ‘Thanks. I’ll try.’ His office was furnished in early Sigmund Freud. The classic therapist couch (I’ve never seen one of those for real, she thought). Dark wood. Comfortable rug. Broad desk with a single file open. Large chair for him. Sit down, he said, offering the chair to her. He sat on the couch. He swung his feet. "She's as much mine as she is yours," said Mel, stopping the car. "Why are you stopping? Drive! Take us home," I half whined. "Get out!" she said. "What?" "Get out!" We both got out and circled the car. "What is your problem?" I asked angrily. Allie was still in the car, her head hung low as if ashamed. "You just don't get it do you? I don't like you taking my girlfriend away from me." "Your girlfriend? She's my girl too and I love her just as much as you claim to." "Are you saying I don't love. More

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