I think we’d both had harbored quiet fantasies of this sort of thing occurring, and for some reason, between the timing and opportunity, hunger and happenstance, our fantasies met their incendiary match.Day 1: His first appearance, and probably my least attractive one, as I rose rumpled and hungover after a late night wine-fest with the company bigwigs. You have to drink with them, and I’m not that much of a lush.At least I had showered by the time the meal, (and my future meal to be, it seemed) arrived at my door. His smile was warming, his demeanor perfect for someone in my condition. He even suggested a cure for the headache, which i tried and which eventually helped. He waited calmly while beaming that smile as I took my first gulps of the coffee he’d so kindly poured for me.As I reached out to sign the check and let him get on with his dutiful day (keeping other thoughts to myself), I managed to spill some of that coffee right into my own lap. Only then did I realize that my. Of course my fingernails were polished aqua,and I had dangling turquoise earrings, my lipstick was blue, with lightblue eye shadow on my eyelids. My Stepmother had told me that thevarying colored beauty items on a woman's body and face were supposed tomatch but I wasn't sure I was good at that yet. My honey blonde hair wasin a ponytail and it had grown out a lot since September, it looked veryfeminine.An hour later my date arrived, I overheard my Stepmother talking to herdownstairs. I noticed that the Lancaster daughter had a deep voice,maybe she was a lesbian but whatever, if she wanted to marry me I waswilling to do so to gain my share of her family's wealth. I wentdownstairs to greet her, walking slowly to not stumble on my high heels.I reached the bottom of the stairs and received a tremendous shock. MyStepmother said to me, "I'm afraid there was a bit of amisunderstanding, Bart Lancaster was searching for a marriage partnerfor his son not his daughter, this is Reginald.
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