Deciding that things were a little unusual but still okay, ‘I go by Christine’, she replied as she stepped closer to the counter. OH MY GAWD! Chri...tine had just now gotten to a place where she could look over the counter and see what the receptionist really looked like. The receptionist was dressed in a tight clinging stretch top that left ‘nothing’ to the imagination, and in her own mind, Christine meant ‘nothing’. The receptionist’s nipples could be seen in outline just below the bottom of. At that moment, I heard the front door of the mansion burst open. I guessed – correctly – that it would be Elizabeth, rushing in from Jonathan’s flat in the city, freshly washed and dressed as if she had just come from her own room. Sometimes rushed, but never unprepared, that was our Elizabeth. ‘Good morning, children!’ she exclaimed as she brushed through the dining room, grabbing up a biscuit and some fruit. ‘And Agnes! Molly, is my tea ready upstairs?’ she asked the kitchen maid. ‘Brewing. More

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