" I'll stop... if you tell me what else happens when people 'play house'."She colored even more brightly than she had before. Haltingly, she answered ...y question. "They hug and kiss... and... touch each other... between the legs." You'd like to try that yourself, wouldn't you!" I said knowingly.She nodded, a bit reluctantly, carried along by my enthusiasm. My fingertips found her nipples again."Then why don't you and I play house?"She was so tempted. I could feel it. I put my hands on her hips.. Know any muckrakers?"She nodded, blinking. "There was a woman, Ida something." Right, Ida Tarbell, magazine writer mainly, she said that with imagination, anything was possible, something like that. That's a neat idea. Imagination. What did she do; whom did she write about? Charlie?" Standard Oil, Rockefeller." The bright boy stayed slumped down in his seat, pretending disinterest. "John I think, John D. Rockefeller." Exactly. So? What happened? What about Rockefeller? Who's he? Go on. More

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