Lady In The House Ch. 12

Today she wears a navy-blue business suit; the hem of the skirt cut a conventional ten centimetres above her knees. She wears a mauve satin long sleeved blouse, sheer beige pantyhose and black high-heeled court shoes. She has accessorised the outfit with a double string of pearls around her neck, gold bangles on each wrist, drop single pearl earrings, and for just that little bit of pizzazz, a slender gold ankle bracelet, glittering against her sheer hosed ankle.

Her makeup is conservative, but heavy around her eyes with lashings of eyeliner and mascara; after her legs, her bright hazel eyes are her greatest assets. Her auburn hair is worn in a bob that drops to her shoulders and with a straight fringe that touches her brows. As Angie walks purposely down the dim street, she leaves a hint of Poison, her favourite fragrance, behind her in her wake.

She looks like a professional businesswoman, but with just a hint of bawdiness thrown in. Underneath her professionally styled outer garments she has indulged in black satin full cut panties (thongs just don't work on her large bum, the g-string disappears in the crack of her buttocks), matching brassiere and a black nylon half-slip.

Danny Boyle, Steve's 'outside' confidant and henchman scrutinises Angie from a deep dark doorway set back from the street. He licks his lips in anticipation. He's pissed off that 'Iron Bar' Steve has set a limit on what he can do to this woman; he imagines the fun he could have with her if he could get her somewhere quiet and remote. He would spend hours titillating himself while he played with her before he allowed his desires to take control and sate his primal urges. But Danny knew that even though Steve was locked away in Chelmsford Correctional Facility for Men, there was nowhere on earth he would be safe if he didn't carry out Steve's instructions to the letter.

Not that Danny was too disappointed, the expectation of what he was actually going to do to this woman was still exciting, and his penis throbbed and bulged like a coiled python, outlined in the denim fabric of his tight jeans. He flicked open the slim stiletto knife and prepared to strike. He scrutinised the street one last time; perfect it was empty!