The word of a crazy, bi-polar, probably psychopathic cunt herself, however, was not all that confidence inspiring. Her son Brad and I were little more...than fuck buddies, and only on a few occasions. I honestly doubt he would even have remembered my name. He was a player in the truest sense of the word, and in a high school of over a thousand girls, he must have dated at least forty of them, and fucked well over two hundred. I couldn’t help but remember with a hint of amusement when I saw her in. "What, me?"I replied, astounded. "Yep," he confirmed. "We trust you, don't weDave?." His accomplice laughed. "Course we do!" His hand moved from thearmrest of the chair, rested briefly on the hilt of the evil-lookingknife he had left on an adjacent small table, and then returned to itsoriginal position. He arched his eyebrows meaningfully. Sighing, Icrossed to the top of the stairs that led down to the front door andshuffled down as carefully as I could.When I reached the door I opened it as. More

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