Truly I do Read Free Page A

neglected inner thighs. She
found herself thinking not of her husband but of the delicious
looking blonde haired man who'd come to her front door. She noted
that she felt no guilt in allowing her thoughts to stray. She was
emotionally numb, but feeling very physical, very alive through an
alert awareness of her own body.
    When she
finally stepped from the steaming bathroom, the spike of cold
morning air on her naked skin was fresh and invigorating. Feeling
sensations of raw sexual hunger was, in itself, satisfying to her.
Whilst she dressed, she felt hungry for good nourishment and wanted
new energy to take the place of her recent feelings of hollow
emptiness and fatigue. Greedily she planned an indulgent, old
fashioned, cooked English breakfast. Clothed in tight jeans and a
designer cut, pink tee-shirt, she felt free to enjoy the silkiness
of her long hair as she brushed it dry and tied it in a long
shining tail that hung down her back. For the first time in ages
Julie-Anne greeted the day with some degree of enthusiasm.
    Soon all doors
and windows were open and she was immersed in the minutiae of
furniture polishing, cupboard organising and other domestic tasks.
On this new day the mundane chores did not bore her but absorbed
her and made her feel as if she was clearing away more than just
dust.
    She was so
involved in what she was doing that she nearly missed lunch and the
very fact that she had an appetite made her feel better. It was two
thirty by the time she had cooked and eaten the last remnants of a
particularly good quality piece of cheddar cheese on bread that was
too stale to make anything other than toast. Then, quietly
contented, she resumed the final few chores, determined to get
everything done.
    Once she had
had a good go through the cottage it seemed quite natural to take a
walk down to the village store to restock the fridge, replenish the
cleaning products and grab a newspaper to find out what was going
on in the rest of the world.
    She hunched
into a camel coloured fleece duffle coat, pushed her feet into her
warm, sheepskin boots and set out to crunch-crunch down the village
lanes, stomping merrily through crisp frosted autumn leaves and
thinly iced mud puddles. She found herself childishly delighted by
the patterns she could blow with her breath as she marched along.
She relished too the earthy smell of crushed acorns and rain soaked
leaves.
    When she
turned the corner at the bottom of the lane, looking up to take in
the typically pretty English county scene of frosted village green
flanked by a thatched roofed store, small red brick cottages and
rambling country pub, her heart skipped a beat . . . there was the
delectable mop of blonde curls and the intelligent tanned face that
had lingered deep in her thoughts since his visit to her home the
previous afternoon. What had he said his name was? Russell?
    He was
standing outside the store with a newspaper, scrutinising some
article. A scowl of deep concentration and the need for an overdue
shave made his face look rugged and interesting. Despite the chill
in the air he was wearing no more than a close fitting cream
sweater over his tight boot-cut jeans.
    The angle of
his arms, crooked to hold up his newspaper, showed off his muscles.
Hmmn, I like it, strong but not over developed! Julie-Anne mused.
Good god, I could do with finding myself a man that looked like
that! She found, as she grew closer, she was even attracted to the
fragrances of this man, breathing gently she could smell his
aftershave and a hint of coconut probably from shampoo.
    She felt her
belly tighten with anticipation for the way his voice seemed to
awaken some deeply sensual urge in her. When she stopped next to
him she could barely take her eyes of his hands and fingers which
suddenly seemed so sexy to her. She was slightly jarred to find
that after shifting her gaze away from his hands, she was staring
at his mouth and flooding with a lustfully hungry desire to kiss
him. 'For goodness