I could feel the rush of the alcohol going to my head, too. Thankfully Kris finally capped the bottle. I hoped it wouldn't make me too drunk to work. ..."We should probably eat," Kris suggested. "Alright," Mel said to me. "Why don't you go get some work done, and we'll work on dinner." I went back to my room, grabbed my laptop, and then headed out and around to the front of the cottage where there was a huge wooden deck overlooking the lake. At the tip of the land there was a blue painted dock. Richard Hink was a tall, well-built man only a few years older than Sandy's mother, with a shock of curly, coal-black hair that constantly fell boyishly down over his forehead, and a thick broad chest with well-developed pectorals, the result of his years as head football coach at Prescott High School. Hink knew of Sandy Murphy from school as well as from being her neighbor, though he didn't have her as a pupil... yet. He had certain lewd ideas about someday starting an extra-curricular class. More

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