For a convenient coverup, a short jacket. Howabout a bolero?? I shook my head. Mom wore those, I knew, little jacketswith rounded off edges; I did not...want to look like Mom.?I could make a more youthful version of course, but you are in charge,so I bow to your wishes. How about this, a more squared off look for thejacket. Still short, with half sleeves, in a light basket weave?? I toldher it looked beautiful, because honestly it did.Next came a dress with a surplice top and butterfly sleeves.. It was evident that he liked the idea, waiting for me to leave before completely pulling off his jeans. I hurriedly stepped outside the door softly closing it and then began counting to fifty.It was strange. I knew what I would no doubt be seeing when I reentered the room. So I felt prepared for it when I did. I wasn't. It was as though I had actually walked in, catching him. I actually found myself catching my breath, totally unprepared for what I was seeing, looking at as Jared lay there on. She runs up the stone steps and into the musky warmth of the ballroom entrance. Muted merriment echoes from the main hall into the cloak room as she signs the registry, stirring excitement in her mind for the possibilities of this evenings masquerade. He stands at the bar brandy in hand, intent blue eyes roving the masked faces in the crowd. He is searching for her, even though he does not yet know who she is... He swirls his glass, the rhythmic clinking of ice fuelling images of the seductive. You're a great k**—excuse the term k**. But you are. And what I can't understand is your obsession with it—with so-called erotica in general, and with i****t specifically. Because, let's face it, honey, you are obsessed with it. It's not healthy. It's not healthy and good to become obsessed about anything." Mack chuckled to himself as she spoke. She had said exactly what he thought she would say. It was if he could read her mind. "Mom, I understand what you're saying. But you still didn't.
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