It took me all week to find the courage to not wear a damn dress to the next meeting. It was the definition of cutting off my nose despite my face. No... only didn't I want to be in the headlines linked to Charles DeWitt, but I was also sick and tired of looking frumpy. I even dressed down on the day before and after our meeting in case he decided to stay in town and drop in on the bookstore. But, when the next meeting happened, I showed up in one of my least attractive outfits: shapeless pants,. My husband loved my feet so I kept them smooth and moisturized, making sure they were delectable for whenever the mood took him. I ran my dainty hand down my toned thighs that were covered by tight black leggings, heating up my palms. I swept my hands back up and over my firm stomach, brushing my tender nipples through the wool of my sweater. A shiver twitched through my body, but not because of the cold. I stood up and headed up the stairs, walking slowly across the landing. I could hear him. More

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