She'd worn it in a neat, severe bun all afternoon.She'd worn it in a neat, severe bun all afternoon. Unfastened, her hair fell almost to her buns. She was wearing Guess jeans, high-heel boots and a white cashmere sweater that fit every loving damn curve of her. She kept looking from Livinia to me to the floor. "If you'll excuse me, Livinia will show you around while I cook." "Oh, you can cook?" Oh, my goodness, but she had such a lovely voice that emanated from between such lovely lips and out of a throat so slender and graceful -- "Yeah, sorta," I said and exited for the kitchen. Livinia took her gorgeous, sexy young sister toward the living room. Both were jabbering in Tagolog. I was preparing to stir fry some chicken and vegetables and cook rice. Yes, something was definitely wrong with this picture. I looked down at the front of my robe and said, aloud, "Down, boy," and got the rice started and peanut oil heating. Then I went into the living room. Being barefoot and having grown up in apartment buildings where One Man's Ceiling Is Another Man's Floor, I automatically walked quietly. They were in a deep clinch, topped by a deep kiss. I watched as they ran their hands over each other and murmured. I could make out just enough to know it was Tagolog. I backed into my foyer and noisily bumped into the doorway that leads to my home office that leads to my living room. The cat ran up to see if I was okay and demanded attention. I succumbed to his -- its -- furry charms and straightened. They were facing me, each with an arm around the other's waist. |