She felt harassed, even stalked. Spending the day figuratively looking over her shoulder exhausted her, and she was jumpy, startled by the slightest m...vement around her.Young Bobby Green was the one bright spot in her day. It hadn't taken much to convince him to tell all, and the boy spent two hours with a sketch artist. They now had a possible likeness of Hanna Jenkin's killer. Her boss's praise was bittersweet because David deserved the attaboy, not her. She spent the afternoon interviewing. I loved him very much and didn't want to do anything to jeopardize our relationship but just felt over the years of staying home I had missed out a lot, including a lot of my youth. I didn't want to cheat on John but I could not stop thinking about the stories Sarah had told me. She would describe the men and the passion she had with them no matter how brief. I thought about what she said a lot and would often find myself fantasizing about having passionate sex with total strangers I had seen. She put her feet upon my bed beside where I was sitting. It was kinda awkward trying to make small talk at first. She kept watching the TV and I kept sneaking peeks at her sexy thick legs. She was wearing capri style grey jogging pants and a white shirt. Her toenails were painted pink, she had sexy thick ankles and calfs, and really nice thick thighs. Her shirt was baggy but it looked like she had big tits. Her fingernails matched her toenails and she had a little bit of a tan. She had a smooth. As Jack Nicholson so aptly put it, ‘I was just inches from a clean getaway.’ I sat frozen in place. I felt powerless to move, certainly to leave. She was a dazzling redhead of about thirty years and she was tall. Very tall. Her hair was long and very curly, her face was that perfect oval shape every woman wishes for, and there was a lovely sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her long, aquiline nose and the tops of her cheeks. She was lean, yet still very voluptuous. A nice hip flare.