It was my daddy who told me about women like these. He had nothin’ but good things to say. He was an old horn dog.
That’s right, we did run into a cop, who did in fact buy bunni a bouquet of 24 long-stem roses, and who told us so fiercely not to leave until he got back that we had no choice but to obey. Maybe if we ask bunni nicely, she will post the picture of Herself With Roses and Princess Starlite Tiara, looking very glamma indeed.
As for fessing up...sorry, fellas, we’re not telling. Kimberly, now, that’s another story. She gets to hop into the car with us.
Or, of course, I could just ask for her permission to post the rose & tiara picture here, so that we can keep her own blog space nice and confidential-like. Sheesh. Sorry about that, darlink. Apparently I brained my damage harder than I thought.
Tvindy, you dog. I know exactly what you’re talking about...and as it turns out, you’re wrong. I took that picture; my objective was to get both of our heads in shot—a real trick, considering that we were in a darkened bar and I wasn’t looking through the viewfinder—and to that end, the picture was a smashing success.
Hmmm. Once upon a time, I would have thought that orionoir was the only person depraved enough to see a picture with a shopping bag and some tissue paper in the background—you know, since it *was* bunni’s birthday, and gifts *were* given—and turn it into panties on a notebook. Apparently not. You boys, you boys.
Of course, I could be bluffing, and you could be right. But that would be spilling the beans, and I already said I’m not spillin’.



I see nothing but trouble! I look forward to the whole report, including incriminating portions that need to be covered by privilege. After all, I’m treating those cookies as your retainer, so you can tell me all.