"Mr. Phelps chuckled. "She's a bit off the track sometimes." I think you might know my husband." Really? Who is he?" George Belfield. I'm Claire Belfi...ld."Mr. Phelps hesitated. "Well I might know him. He's in the insurance business, isn't he?"Mrs. Belfield laughed. "Very much so." I'm certainly grateful for the support of your family." Oh yes, George and I will certainly vote for you." That's wonderful."His eyes were on her breasts again.On East 65th Street Mr. and Mrs. Phelps Phelps were about. I follow his orders, well used to the routine. He would take pictures of me to show off his new camera and then spend hours analysing the depth of focus and light and what else. I smiled politely at him, my arms hanging loose next to my side. “No,” he said with a laugh. “Come on Mia, you can do better than that!”I’m still wearing my bikini and I turn my back on him, looking over my shoulder with a sultry expression I’d perfected in the mirror when I was sixteen. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “That’s it,. We said sure, although I asked whether she really wanted to ruin the surprise. Anna just winked at me, got up and rather unsteadily walked towards their bedroom. John, Rosie and I continued to chat. About ten minutes later, Anna reappeared, but her outfit had changed considerably. Instead of a blouse and trousers, she was now wearing a nearly transparent white t-shirt that indecently hugged her upper body, along with a plaid skirt that barely covered her shapely rear. The outfit was completed. After the presents, there was more dancing and then the cake and ice cream. I had the cake made special at the local bakery on the model of a tiered wedding cake. That was out of practicality to feed so many people. The ice cream I had bought in the commercial tubs in three flavors and I put on a hat and jacket I borrowed from the owner of the local ice cream shop and scooped ice cream for all 65 people. My hand was about to fall off from scooping all of that ice cream that was still hard even.