Aaarggh, why did she have to look so much like her mother, indistinguishable except for her dark hair and grey eyes, more like sister than daughter. Those upturned breasts, even now rising and falling deliciously beneath the soft silk of her gown, the nipples clearly distended under the thin material, her hips flaring outward, the skin of newborn babes softening her face and silky body, those big eyes melting at him-NAY! HE MUST NOT! His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles whitened with the effort to control himself. And as he watched her, so too she watched him, her gaze taking on a languid sleepy look, heavy lidded eyes tracing the contours of his chiselled face, brawny chest and broad shoulders. Seeing the effect she had on him, she smiled, a smile secret with untold longings and unrestrained passions held too long inside. ‘You’re wicked to tempt me so,’ he said through clenched teeth, the effort to restrain his throbbing need giving his body a slight shudder. ‘I do not mean. I put our bags up on the luggage rack above our heads. We had both just mutually assumed that we would travel together like old friends but we hadn’t even exchanged names yet. When we were seated comfortably I offered my hand, tentatively. ‘I’m Jamie …. Jamie Riley, by the way.’ She touched my hand equally tentatively, her hand shake was firm but nothing unusual occurred, I think we both inwardly sighed with relief. I noticed that she was not wearing any rings. ‘Gillian Watford …. Gill.’ She stood up and removed her top coat, folded it and added it to the bags on the overhead rack. ‘It’s always either too hot or too cold on these trains,’ she commented. Beneath the coat she was wearing a snug fitting crew necked camel coloured cashmere jumper and a beige calf length pencil skirt which clung to her hips and thighs. She really did have a tiny, hour glass waist, emphasised by the wide brown leather fashion belt. All her clothes were of top quality. Spending so much time with Mum and.
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