”“Just sit. While I write. Like, I don’t know, a muse or something. Like I’m painting your portrait, only…”“Only being written as some k...nd of raving nymphomaniac.”“Yes. No. I don’t know.”Perhaps thirty seconds passed with Meghan looking like she was interrogating her own feelings. Then she said, “Do you know, I’m actually tempted.”“But?”“I’m married for one thing.”“And?”“And I assume this… sitting would be at your place.”I could see her point. A married woman visiting a man she knew to write. I also saw her skimpy panties, red lace to match her bra, and then I was stunned to see a dark patch between her legs, and I realised that all the kissing and fooling around had made my mother wet.She broke away, laughing and gasping for breath, and said that kissing was only allowed under the mistletoe. Frank winked at me and nodded towards the doorway, and I collected the mistletoe and held it over them. Mum hesitated, then she turned to Frank and I saw her lips part as his mouth covered. More

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