The Perfect Lover
Angie MacDougal glanced at the clock and sighed. Almost 4:30 on the second Friday of the month …. she’d better start getting ready. She headed for the bathroom, unbuttoning her blouse as she went. She shucked it off and dropped it, kicking it moodily out of the way, and looked into the mirror, naked to the waist but for her bra. She put her hands on her flaring hips, frowning as she inspected her image critically. She knew she was good looking, but she thought her mouth was too wide for perfection and she would have signed a five - year lein on her soul for blond hair instead of the rich brown silk that framed her face. Joe “said” he liked her hair, but the models in his magazines were all blondes. ...