The small duffel bag held the few things I would need for the evening. I changed out of my shorts for obvious reasons, grabbed some patriotic boxers, and pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans. I had my boots in the bag in case I wanted to go riding, and added a pair of socks. As an afterthought, I threw in some black cargo shorts. A hooded sweatshirt was the only other thing I could think to bring.
I put the bag by the door, made one last sweep, and remembered the wine I had bought for Brenda. I sat on the end of the couch and looked around as my mind willingly jumped back to the little scene in the kitchen. I couldn’t help but start laughing when I thought about the beautiful, professional Nicole Bernard with her hand jammed between my legs. Bit by bit, she was dismantling the fancy imag
