It seemed every time he went out of town some African politician was murdered or disappeared. Tara’s older daughter had even made up the fantasy tha... he was the agent that had murdered the princess with an ice bullet in that Paris tunnel, like Tara both her daughters had active imaginations. Her adult daughter was even following her mother’s foot steps into writing, hopefully not the porn that her mother did though. That was another thing that Tara had to be thankful for…after a lifetime of. "After that, you're still diddling yourself?" I'm not diddling myself," she said. She kissed my cheek."What are you doing, then?" I panted."I'm holding myself closed, so you don't drip out. I don't know about you, but I don't feel like sleeping on a wet spot." Oh," I said."Besides," she said. "It doesn't do any good if you let it all drip out."I think I was already drowsy enough that that comment didn't sink in right then. I would remember it later ... but at that moment in time, I simply. More

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