Warning: This is a vintage hard-boiled full length, post-censorship erotic novel. This is bad stuff. Both bad meaning bad and bad meaning *good*. The story is so crazy, we can't even give a proper description. Check out the free sample if you can.************It was just before her son and daughter arrived home from high school that Arlene found the brown legal-size envelope. It had been tucked between two seldom read volumes on the top shelf of the bookcase. If she hadn't accidentally jarred one of the books loose while dusting, the envelope would not have been exposed. Now she examined it with trembling fingers. Even before she opened the unsealed flap, she knew what was inside. Money. And she knew it was stolen. Money stolen from her husband's office. It wasn't the first such envelope she had happened upon. There had been two others, one containing two-hundred dollars in twenties, another holding two fifty-dollar bills. Now she stared at this third envelope, fearful of what its contents might be, remembering how strange Hal's voice had sounded when he tried to relate matter-of-factly that money was missing from the office. Even then, Arlene had suspected. A dark, terrible hunch was followed two days later by the first envelope - the first evidence? She wanted to ask him why, but she couldn't. She could no more speak to her staunchly proper husband about his crime than she could tell him about her masturbation. She nervously squeezed the envelope open and counted five-hundred dollars worth of tens and twenties. She returned the cash to its secret place, arranging the books so that the bulging envelope could not be noticed.
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