Those kids were quite creative.One of the dancers caught my eye. She was tallish, slender and attractive in an almost-model sort of way. She carried herself gracefully with a hint of self-consciousness. She seemed to be eighteen or nineteen, but carried herself with a more mature dignity than the other revelers in the field that night. She was wearing a black miniskirt, maybe ten inches from waist to hem, made from some thin leather looking material. The skirt was wrapped by a wide, loosely woven belt and worn extremely low on her narrow hips. On top she had a silk scarf, like an expensive bandana, tied around her chest like a beige triangle pointing downward. Not so thin as to be see-through, but not so thick as to conceal what was beneath the silk. What was beneath was more than enough to hold the scarf in place, yet not so large to need any support.Her face was the clincher. Pretty in a classy girl-next-door way. Nothing spectacular, but you would catch yourself staring and then. He held out the flowers in his right hand. “These are for you, my precious Grace.”She took them without a glance or a sniff at them. Her eyes were fixed on his.“Thank you, my Terry. Thank you, thank you!”Her lips found his again, warm lips, soft lips. “I love you.”She reluctantly stood back to let him in and closed the door behind him. She led him into the kitchen.Terry was greeted warmly by both Robinses and gave them both their presents.“Such generosity merits a reward,” said Stephen.“Pompous idiot!” interjected Anthea with a wide smile.Stephen stuck the tip of his tongue out at her. Grace got the giggles.“Take no notice of these women, Terry,” said Stephen airily. “Wine or a drop of the hard stuff?”“Red wine would go down a treat, sir,” replied Terry.“Drop the ‘sirs’, replied Stephen as he poured the drink. “Stephen and Anthea.”“Are you fully recovered, Terry?” asked Anthea.“Yes thank you and thankfully.”“I bet.”“So, let’s get business out of the way,” went on Stephen. “You pop off.
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