She’s all curves and shimmering moisture, as if she’s continually dripping over and off of herself. She flips a pair of raw patties on the griddle...and the smell of cooking meat is never far behind the sizzle. “Medium or well on them burgers?” she tosses off her shoulder. “Yeah, sure,” he tells her. "Comin' right up," she says. She turns away from the meat and drops a basket of spuds in the fryolater. A quarter smile doesn’t play at the corner of her mouth while she dances with machines that. Saturday morning and I was out with my fortnightly group. There wereabout twenty in the group. The walk was a bit uninspiring and thecompany bland. We only did six miles and I felt very flat after it. Iwas home early and Sam instructed me to have a bath and get my glad ragson. She had got us tickets to see the Royal Ballet dance Myerling. Wehad not been to the ballet in ages. Both of us were dressed to kill aswe arrived at covent garden. Our seats were the best, in the stalls, andwe saw the. More

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