”This all sounds very businesslike, but I feel a familiar tingle. Something’s afoot; something dirty, something risky, something no respectable wo...an would get involved in. “What kind of help?” I say, trying not to sound as eager as I feel.Sandra gives a little smile, as if she can see right through me. “Jez and Gabby and I have talked about the possibility of you demonstrating products in person,” she says.My body leaps into arousal mode right there. I can’t help myself.Sandra continues. “We. I was in the Chancery Court, sitting behind Mr Carruthers Melford Q.C. one Thursday in the Autumn of 1955, when the events began that changed my life. I might say with a strong element of truth that they began my life. Everything before that day was overture. Melford was a well-fed, florid-faced man, whose complexion suggested large intakes of sirloin steak and claret. As an advocate, he was prolix and self-satisfied, with a command of detail that left something to be desired. I was listening. The first thing we did wasyank off the panties and dump them into the basement washing machine, where John said he'd take care of them later. We didn'tget back into our regular clothes, though; only dug out freshpairs of panties from the boxes.We talked about it for a minute, how good it felt, catchingoccasional glimpses of each other in the mirror. Finally, hesaid, "Wait," and dashed upstairs. He came back a minute laterwith some of the magazines his father had bought and stashed in adresser. "I'm sorry Tommy," she said, "But..." But nothing mum, I expected it, do you think I didn't cry when I got out?"I squatted down in front of her and took her face between my hands."Until you can get on your feet mum, this is home, it's not much, but it's ours, it's clean, and the rent's up to date, welcome home mum."She hugged me tightly and cried again, but thankfully only for a few moments."Not much? Tommy, it's a palace, thank you, darling."I showed her the bedroom and apologised for having.