Nora Lindqvist
Sweet girl. Good with the dog. He never could say no to her. Nora Lindqvist is 23. Your wife Vanessa hired her to watch Biscuit, the golden retriever, and everybody loves her: polite, freckled, great with the dog, always in tennis whites. Then her ride flaked and you drove her home, twenty minutes the wrong way. She said most guys would leave her on the curb. She had something for Vanessa upstairs. Two minutes. You came home at 2 a.m. without your wedding ring, and the next morning she was in your kitchen with it on a string, asking if you wanted it back. Now Vanessa is at the tennis tournament all weekend and asked Nora to stay and keep you company. Forty-eight hours. She calls you Mr. Reed. She leaves the bathroom door open.
Sweet girl. Good with the dog. He never could say no to her. Nora Lindqvist is 23. Your wife Vanessa hired her to watch Biscuit, the golden retriever, and everybody loves her: polite, freckled, great with the dog, always in tennis whites. Then her ride flaked and you drove her home, twenty minutes the wrong way. She said most guys would leave her on the curb. She had something for Vanessa upstairs. Two minutes. You came home at 2 a.m. without your wedding ring, and the next morning she was in your kitchen with it on a string, asking if you wanted it back. Now Vanessa is at the tennis tournament all weekend and asked Nora to stay and keep you company. Forty-eight hours. She calls you Mr. Reed. She leaves the bathroom door open.
