In two minds what to wear to handle Norton at her best Magda lingers over the open luggage. What whets a man’s appetite better, a grief-stricken orphan or a sexy waif ready to sacrifice her mourning to make the man in question happy? Hard to tell; men are strange creatures not always responding as expected. As usually when in difficult situations she has only herself to count on. And then again, to find a decent mourning outfit in her wardrobe is forlorn hope. After some pondering she picks a bustier dress with its top in chiseled metal and the bottom half in white cloud-light muslin breaking up the harsh look of the top. Of course it must be worn on a naked body in a striking contrast to the unyielding metal, enhancing the soft fullness of her breasts. Meeting herself in the mirror she can’t believe that this radiant creature happens to be her! Time flies like a magic carpet towards the foreordained encounter with the man who shall be given no other choice but to ask for her hand in marriage before being allowed to unite with her in flesh.
The sinfully overpriced beauty-parlor, whose address she tracked down in the Vogue, is the presage of the better days to come as the future spouse of Frank Norton. She re-appears on the street gleaming and pampered and gorgeous.
The taxi brings her forth along the city lost to the dusk. Soon taking a cab will be just one of those things and no more a treat when a man she was nice to is enough of a gentleman to offer her after a tryst; alas, this kind of gentlemen is in more and more shorter supply.
She leans back against the seat and tugs at her miniskirt shooting a wily glance at the cabbie eyeing greedily her long silky legs in the rear-view mirror. Of all the cheek! Whom is he taking her for?
“Are you comfortable, Miss?”
His voice shimmers with hope. A false hope! Not bothering to answer she coils up in her bright future where a cabbie, and even was he the owner of this brand-new shiny Mercedes, isn’t a match for a girl like her. She has a serious matter to consider: How shall she explain to Norton the provenance of her luxury outfit? Of course, he may not differ between designer and off the peg garb. And then again, a girl has to put on the show and a good packaging is a winning item.
She pays the exact fare deciding that the glance on her sparsely clad body was a tip enough, enters the code and rings the bell for Norton. His response is instant like of an impetuous teen-ager awaiting his date. He welcomes her, his arms opening wide. Tossing her copper curls at his face she makes him dream what the lush rest of her body may yield to him.
“My darling one!” Gasping for breath he capsizes upon the Persian carpet. Clawing his way into her body, he tears the muslin to shreds. The metal net of her bodice chafing his face, he enters her with the mating cry of a rutting male.