" Why had she said that? It didn't matter to him. With an inward shrug she went upstairs to the bathroom. Stripping off her clothes, she looked at herself critically in the mirror. For a long time she had despaired of ever developing a figure, but in the last couple of years her breasts and hips had really sprouted. She wasn't voluptuous -- not as much as her mother, who really had a body to die for -- but nicely curved. She could often feel boys' eyes clinging to her trim figure as she walked by, or having to force themselves to keep looking at her face rather than her chest as she talked to them. Sometimes this annoyed her, and sometimes it amused her, but she would rather have it than not.Joan brushed back her neck-length, red-brown hair and examined her face. Green eyes, like her mother; her face still had some of the roundness of childhood, but a hint of cheekbones was now present. Maybe in a few years she would be as pretty as Mom, she thought. She hoped so.She stepped into the. Cranny Berg is gone.''And now you have gone, Simon', she wailed inwardly. 'And what is to become of me now?'She got up and switched on the television but soon tired of the mindless soap. All she could think of was how it had been on those Fridays - and Tuesdays and Wednesdays - when he had been with her. Fridays had been best though. Right from the first. On the other days they had concentrated so hard on work with only a brief time for lovemaking at the end but each Friday had been given over to love alone.And there had been the times when they had spent whole nights together here in her flat, when his mother was away staying with friends or on holiday. Delicious nights of sex and fun. Kinky nights when they had pushed out the envelope of their individual fantasies and had discovered new depths and heights of pleasure.In her mind's eye she saw him: so tall and beautiful. So young and full of delicious energy.'Like a Greek god', she thought as she pictured the white athletic torso.
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