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"I was dressed like a common streetwalker, I seemed to be looking outat the world from a body created to arouse men, and I had a handbagfull of nothing but condoms and soiled tissues. Of all the people Icould wake up inside, why had fate decided it would be Olga Turlovna?Was this a sick joke? What was I going to do now? What would I dotonight? Once evening drew in I'd really be in trouble, stuck outsidejust dressed in a miniskirt and a vest. Summer nights got cold, inLondon.I looked down again at my luscious, shapely, smooth legs, barelycovered by my skirt, and those divine breasts straining against mytop. Another wave of panic washed over me, so putting the handbag backdown on the bench, I folded my arms tightly round my ribs once moreand leaned forwards, dropping my head down and trying to keep mybreathing under control. If I'd wanted to calm myself and forget whatwas happening with the action, it didn't help. The weight of my chestrested on my forearms as I leaned forwards, my. Joan was on the stage behind the massive pulpit pretending she was delivering a sermon. The three in the pew laughed at her antics. She gave a final prayer and ducked behind a curtain."Dan, come here. I want to show you something," she called.Dan shrugged. "The Reverend calls," he said foolishly, and went up on the stage. He fumbled through the curtains until he found her standing in a corner. "Left the little one home today, huh?" Yeah, hubby's baby-sitting."It was quite dark in the corner behind the curtains."Now what is that you have to show me?" Dan asked."Me," Joan answered, lifting her skirt above her hips. She held it up long enough for him to see she wore no panties, then let it fall back into place. "In the past two weeks I've thrown myself at you and you haven't so much as kissed me." We haven't exactly been alone," he said, almost afraid to believe what she had just done."We are now." She stepped close to him and threw her arms around his neck.The blood pounded in his.
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