Edie’s clothes were not of the best. Her black A-line skirt was tight on her hips, and the cloth seemed tired. Her medium-height heels were run down... Her shirt strained at the buttons, both from a substantial bust but also across her belly.Edie smiled and sat facing him, sprawling. He could see up her skirt, over black stockings, to black panties. “Like what you see?” Paul sent out reassurance, as well as a geas, and then put her in an aroused state.He did see a slight Monroe resemblance,. " "And...?" prompted Corrin. "Not a lot more really." "So writing doesn't take up any of your time?" "Oh, I forgot; the startled face at the window watching me." Smiling, she looked over her shoulder. "Well... yes, I do write the occassional story... for my own amusement, you understand." "What do you write about... when the mood takes you?" asked Corrin, still probing. The ululating shrill from the kettle interrupted their conversation and as she busied herself AnnaLee said, "General. More

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