My words went over John’s head, as if he was not prepared to listen to reason or anything that stood in his way of fucking me. ‘I’ll lay 100 to ... you’re wearing stockings’, he said, his eyes on my lower legs, ‘you look like a slut’, he added, suddenly my fantasy was unfolding in both my minds eye and in reality in my kitchen. I reached up to my terry towelling robe and eased the tie bind apart, ‘Why don’t you find out if you’re right or wrong’, I said in a defeated tone.. I could feel the robe. Cathy, on the other hand, wore a well-pressed green blouse and a brown skirt with pleats so sharp they could slice bread. She was barefoot as she curled up on the bed; a pair of tan loafers stood neatly underneath her nightstand.Cathy was always the serious one of the pair, but Patty thought she looked more glum than serious this time; maybe it was a slight downturn of her lips, or the way her eyes seemed so flat and lifeless. Though Patty had bounced into the room full of life, Cathy's state. More

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