The pose and dress were similar to Melissa’s photo, just in a different location. Mom’s hair was shorter in mine, too.Putting the two phones side ...by side, I pushed them over to Melissa and looked at her expectantly. She looked back and forth between them a few times, then up at me with panic in those lovely green eyes.“Oh my God, Peter. Does this mean you’re my brother?” she said, her voice quiet and sounding close to breaking.“Half-brother,” I corrected, “But yeah … it kind of looks that. But without pantyhose, I found it inappropriate, because I saw the hold loose in the upper compartment flash out. Highs? The wardrobe, because I knew exactly that the suspenders would have to be somewhere. I was just putting on my pumps when my husband let me know that the food was served. When I went downstairs, of course, my husband received me in the hallway, and led me into our dining room. The table was beautifully decorated, the burning candles lit up the room in a romantic atmosphere. My. But if she won, he was her slave and he had to do whatever she wanted for 3 months. She'd won the bet and that was why she was calling me. Only a couple of select people know that I am bi, and she was one of those few. She called me because she wanted to see her husband get fucked. In fact, if I 'helped' her out, she said that she'd loan me the use of her husband whenever I wanted. I had met him several times and thought he was good looking. Plus, I'd never had a slave before but I've always. She called Phil Mickelson terrible names when he made the winning shot on the last hole and she cursed Dave's ball for not dropping in the hole on the final green. Shelly thought she had gone absolutely nuts but she could see Jennifer was happier than she had ever seen her.Dave called from the locker room after his final round and Jennifer was happy he was thinking about her. He called every week for the next two months. They talked about his tournaments and about the women's team. Jennifer was.