Don't Dare Sleep with your WingWoman

The night Leo climbed on top of me and pleaded, "Come on, baby, please," I didn't know whether to be amused or offended. Granted, we'd been drinking. And I was in his bed, wearing a T-shirt and teeny panties. But we'd been friends for a decade. I was in town to catch up, not hook up. "Get off me, you idiot," I demanded.

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