“OK, Kimmie,” Mandy cooed in infantile articulations as she patted the seat of the high chair. “Come over here and we’ll put the baby in his high chair.” She smiled wickedly at him.
Kim was listless, resigned to his helpless condition, grasping the towel at his waist as if it offered the last grip on sanity. He shuffled toward Mandy and stood contemplating the chair. It looked spindly and unsturdy, and the seat seemed too narrow for even his slim hips, the arms set just over a foot apart. “There’s no way I can fit in that seat,” he stammered. “And besides, it won’t hold me. It’ll break.”
Mandy suddenly grabbed Kim’s terry-covered ass and quickly ripped the small towel away and pulled it out of Kim’s hand.
