rn　Coach　that　his　kids　might　not　look　like　him　for　a　reason：

Babs　had　probably　bagged　every　grocery　boy　who？d　bagged　her　groceries！

？What　can　I　do　for　you？？　he　asked；　trying　to　sound　cheerfully　polite；　although　he　heard　his　voice

warble　in　pure　stoned　terror。

Babs　dropped　his　hands　and　undid　the　top　button　on　her　pink　cotton　shirt。　？I　decided　to　get　a　little

surprise　for　the　coach。？　She　undid　another　button。

？I　see；？　Nate　replied　evenly。　And　he　did　see：　some　very　impressive　cleavage；　and　nary　a　tan　line；

thanks　to　her　after…noon　regimen　of　topless　sunbathing。

Nice。

？I　decided　to　get　a　little　tattoo。？　She　giggled；　undoing　the　last　button　on　her　shirt　and　letting　it

slide　off　her　shoulders　and　onto　the　floor。　？Just　a　little　something　for　the　coach　to　discover　when

he　gets　home。？

？Great。？　He　nodded。Eye　contact；　eye　contact；　eye　contact。

？But　I？ve　got　to　take　special　care　of　it；？　she　whispered　huskily；　turning　her　back　to　Nate　to　reveal

a　tiny　tattoo　of　a　butterfly；　its　green　wings　spread　across　the　burnished　leather　of　her　lower

back。　？But　I　just　can？t　seem　to　reach　it；？　she　continued。　？My　tattoo　artist；　Matty？　He　said　I　have　to

rub　this　ointment　on　it　every　couple　of　hours。？

Nate　studied　the　tattoo；　trying　desperately　to　clear　his　head。　What　was　he　supposed　to　do　in　this

situation？　Babs　was　okay；　but　up　close　her　skin　looked　kind　of　like　a　beat…up　old　baseball　glove；

and　her　perfume　smelled　like　the　soap　in　a　gas　station　bathroom。

No　wonder　Coach　Michaels　needed　that　Viagra。

Speaking　of　him：　he？d　kick　Nate？s　ass；　and　not　just　figuratively；　if　he　knew　that　his　wife　had

taken　her　top　off　in　Nate？s　presence。　On　the　other　ha