“Good?”“Amazing.”She smiled. I grabbed a small soft taco, also amazing. Each taco had a different meat. Beef. Chicken. Fish. Something else.�...Tongue,” she said, removing the tray. I had to grab the dark beer for one last sip. She took it. Then she took my hand and led me to a furry rug with unexpected padding.Once more on my back, she straddled my face. Close up, I noticed her round little butt had less firmness or elasticity than I expected. I had first estimated mid-thirties. I added another. By visiting the Carters frequently, she seemed to acquire some of their strength of personality. They were so good--if worldly--that she came to believe that she could rely upon their judgement utterly. Surely they hadn't become so rich by not having any sense. So she studied everything Dominique Carter did, and Maxwell Carter, too. She wanted to be just like them. Her mother she merely tolerated. The chasm between then widened daily.It was this innocent trust that prevented Ellen from. More

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