“You folks from Corbly sure have an uncanny sense of irony,” Brock replied.“What the hell does that mean?” Frank asked.“It’s almost comica...l to hear you say that,” Brock said. “Because it’s almost word for word what your daughters say about you.”Frank looked at Brock stonefaced.“I can offer you some encouragement, if I need to,” Frank said as he cracked his knuckles.Brock laughed out loud.“Oh, you’re serious,” he said when his laughter subsided.“I’ve whipped bigger men than you,” Frank said with. After dinner, our driver met us and, somewhat to my surprise, helped me somewhat roughly into the backseat first. I couldn't see how things went with him and Cindy, but it took much longer to get her into the car. He was obviously being very careful with her. That was a good thing. Or so I thought. When she got in and looked at me she actually blushed. Hmmm... You know how it is when you drink just a little too much and the effects of the alchohol actually sink in more and more for a while. Kept busy by this variety of curious objects,as if one is in a museum of antiquities and curios, rather than a youngwoman's boudoir, the intrigued eye, now mystified, now amused, nowoverwhelmed, is busied, as is the mind, and the artist holds his viewerspellbound. The nude remains where she always has been, but she hasbeen temporarily forgotten as the gaze flits here and there; when sheagain commands attention, she seems newly discovered, as if she wereonly now introduced into the room in. I was thrilled! My beautiful size 2 redhead wife took me in her arms when she came in. “I missed you so!” she exclaimed, pressing he body into mine.We kissed and broke apart. Should I confront her about what I knew or wait for her to tell me? What if she didn’t say anything??“How was the show?” I opened.“Excellent. Pour me a drink and I will bore you with the details” my wife laughed. I poured two vodkas.Judy looked great. No sign of her orgy the night before. Her long red hair spilled down her.