All the"boys" were in black-tie, whilst the "girls" glittered in a kaleidoscopeof colour. Bobbie was pleased to see that all the faux-girls had made a...eal effort to be pretty for the occasion. "You are definitely theprettiest girl here" Stan whispered in her ear and Bobbie found herselfblushing with pleasure.Before the dance started "Mr" Brownlow got up onto the stage; "This isthe last time you will see me like this" he started, "from Monday I willbe Mrs Brownlow again - and I warn you I won't. “Ok, so what was your question, again?” I asked in a lighter tone. “I promise, I’m listening, this time!”“Well, since you’re listening now, I was asking if your Aunt and Uncle know about your ex-wife,” she said.“They do, yeah,” I replied. “Mom was really pissed off when I told her. But since they wanted nothing to do with me at that time, I didn’t see the point in calling to let them know I was married.”“Ouch, yeah. They shouldn’t judge you for that!” she declared. “Don’t worry, baby. At least. It was something that she dreaded because it required that she "root around" and stirring things up wearing a rubber glove if things slowed down and threatened the normal birth. It was part of the job that she hated the most but it was the sort of thing that introduced her to kinky aspects of such details and she found that men enjoyed a little "poking around" in their backsides to help them come to a happy ending with little delay.One of the patients was a sinfully rich woman called Pamela who. Her fantasies took on a whole new dimension. Could she? Would they? The thought of being with both of them had her flowing like a river. As quickly as the thought formed in her head, she popped open two buttons on her blouse, took off her bra, and dropped it on the bathroom floor. A quick glance in the mirror showed her that her stiff nipples were poking at the cloth. I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought, but she couldn’t resist the intense arousal. She ran a brush through her brown.