I didn't care that she was my daughter. That she was only eighteen, half my age. She was perfect. The candlelight danced in her blue eyes. “Um, if y...ou want, you can have some champagne,” I said. “I won't tell anyone.”She giggled. “Neither will I.”We shared a smile. It was so natural, like she'd been my lover all her life. My blood pumped so hot through my veins. Our eyes connected. Was it my imagination? Did I feel this magnetic pull to her? Did she feel it? My hands flexed, wanting to take. Or the spiked desserts, for that matter. The noise was an irritant, too, leaving her hearing dull and a ringing in her ears.Zipping up her coat, Sonja walked down the stairs from the lodge’s balcony and away from the place. She needed some clean air and quiet to clear her head.“Hey, Sonja, be careful out there,” called out her friend Maggie, who had invited her to the party in the first place.“I’ll be fine,” Sonja called back, “Just need some fresh air.”“Okay, but don’t go too far. There’s some. The two of them kissed, and headed back out into the prom to capture Brooke.It was 8:50, and Tony had pulled up to a small house off the campus. Brooke and Jess were in the back, talking. The house was mobbed already, and Tony wondered if he should have brought more people. The more cocks that ravaged Brooke, the better. Stepping into the house, Brooke was immidatly handed a mug of cold beer. She sighed. Brooke didn't really drink, but she figured it was all right, being prom night and all. She. Miriam noticed my discomfort and patted my knee. I thought that I was about to pass out."I want to get some photos of you, Miriam, and our photographer, here has graciously agreed." Okay," she replied. "Where do you want to go?" How about let's go to that old covered bridge over the Timbuktu Creek? We where just there and Mr. "National Geographic" here wanted to take some more photos of the bridge with you in the picture. I think that he doesn't really care where but he wanted to take some.