Lauren Bacall. Obviously not THE Lauren Bacall but she so resembled her that I was smitten. She had those eyes, that hair and those legs, clearly on s...ow under a knee length dress that had risen up her thigh as she had sat on the arm of a chair. She wore black stockings and black heels and the dark blue dress was tight across sensible sized tits. She looked incredibly like the actress. I had fancied her for a lifetime. I walked across to where Glenys was making doe eyes at a tall, well-dressed. “Sure, sure. That’s fine.” I gave her directions and my address and told her to call me when she arrived in the parking garage so I could meet her. I spent the next two hours in a whirl of anxiety, barely able to focus on work. My mouth was dry and my hands were trembled. I ran home, like a guy in a Hollywood romance trying to stop the girl he finally discovers he loves before she gets on that plane that would take her away. I cursed the sluggish elevator, paced to and fro, until it at last. More

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