Stricken Resolve (37 page)

Having had more than enough of this
conversation with Roni, I exit the kitchen to grab my pink Gucci
purse from the sitting room and slide on my white, size twelve
Prada pumps. Today I’m wearing my favorite pale blue wispy A-line
dress with plunging V neckline. It highlights my large fake breasts
very scrumptiously, I think. And my new investors will be in today
to broker a deal, and making men stupidly drool is kind of my
thing. Or so I’m told.

They can eye bang me all they want. They just
can’t touch. There’s only one male in my life allowed to touch and
that’s Daniel, my bisexual secretary. Who’s such a doll, and more
Butch than Sundance. And that’s who I need to help relieve the
painful throbbing between my smooth toned legs.

Knowing Roni is probably stewing back in her
large upstairs apartment that’s over my four car garage, I decide
to drive to work alone today. At least now Wynonna and I can get
some alone time without Sassy Britches ruining my country buzz.

Clicking my three inch heels through the
house on my pristine dark wood floors, I open the white back door
and swinging screen door and lock the house up. Stepping down the
three back steps, I head to the garage. I think I’ll drive the
black Jag today. It’s more impressive and I need to woo my newest
investors.

Here goes nothing.

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