There is no excuse. None, I suppose, except to say that I was on a business trip, 100 miles from home, and suffering from that specific loneliness that only comes with crowded conference centers and chain motel-rooms.
The other associates were all planning on boozing hard that night. But I was in no mood. A bunch of middle-aged men with doughy waists and beer-sweat-cracking lewd jokes about the overworked cocktail waitress just isn’t my idea of a good time. After the last of my meetings, I begged off on happy-hour and retreated to my room, where I could lie back and fantasize about Malia.
Malia … She’s my step-sister, for Christ’s sake – and has been since we were babies. We spent the better part of our childhoods bathing in the same tub, right up to adolescence, when her t**s started to
