Anyway, immediately I can tell that this Sharon lady, she’s out for blood. I recall beating her a time or two, and she doesn’t seem like the kind who likes to be beat. “So…” she says, and she lowers her voice, going for the hushed tone effect, but it doesn’t quite pan out that way. “I hope you don’t mind… but I just have to know… how often do you guys…” she asks, looking away and then back at me. She lowers her voice further, so much that I can barely make out her words even though I already know what she is going to ask. “How often do you, um…you know?”
I c**k my head to one side and smile sweetly. “f**k?” I reply, hitting the nail on its head. Aside from the occasional run-in at Bunko, I haven’t known most of these women long. They’re friends of the bride and groom, who we also don’t re
