. with both hands."Really?" I said, giving the tub of guts ninety-eight cents worth of my million dollar smile."Yeah. I talked to my dad," he said, "and he thinks the bowling alley idea is great..."The bowling alley idea was Harold's alternative No. 57 to professional football."... He said he'd front me the capital I need to get things started. "We're in business, baby!" he said, opening his bloated arms, actually expecting me to rush to him, to congratulate him.I just stood there and stared. I couldn't believe the asshole. "We're in business..." What kind of crap was that? The swollen turd thought he was going to take me away from all this? That my career was some female whim, some interim income while he got his bowling alley together? Male chauvinist insect! He said that to me... a woman making almost a million dollars a year.I looked at his fatness and his puffy arms and remembered what a holy terror he'd been... the delight he'd taken in mayhem and physical violence... somewhere. ” She coloured immediately and looked embarrassed. “Was it that obvious? God I feel so stupid…” I stepped forward and reached down to take her hands. She was nearly the same height as me, and I found myself looking directly into those gorgeous eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with what you were doing. In fact you’ve made me want to do the same thing.” I grinned. “That pool looks pretty inviting right now.” I saw her eyes drop and rest for a moment on my protuberant nipples which were clearly visible through the thin material of my bikini top. “Well, if you want too, be my guest. There’s only you and me in the place. I’ll leave you to it.” She actually turned to go. I think she would have walked away if I hadn’t summoned every last ounce of courage I possessed and said: “I’d rather you stayed.” She looked it me for a long time. “You serious?” I pushed my luck. “If you stay I won’t tell.” She smiled. It was the first sign I’d seen of her relaxing. “I don’t think you’d tell.
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