How southern belle of her.

Hazard of the job. That's Ode de Anal Gland you smell.

Just about every available female--and some unavailable--seemed to think the way to his heart was through his blood sugar levels.

The algorithms in his hard drive scrambled and his coding short-circuited. Like she’d downloaded a virus right into his system, he got feverishly hot.

I kinda felt like the first slice of bread in the bag. Everyone touched me, but no one wanted me.

That dress was designed to be a kill switch for rational thought.