“Mrs. Fancy?”
“Travis!”
Curious exclamation. She was often the type with a heavy tone, shrill female voice like her hormones was persistent to stay. Engrossed in Latin makeup, she walked in a fantasy Cinderella gown, which didn’t quite go well with her old age wrinkles like always, followed closely by another shadow. My expectations were of a security guard. But I staggered back at the sight of her. She had always talked high of her one and only daughter.
“Mrs. Heather?!”
She was in a short red skirt and mini half-open top. Exposing her belly, a bit, and strolling on those high-class heels, nobody at once glance would think otherwise; but she was beautiful. Gorgeous. Thin, with a heavy buttock protruding and bosoms exposed in its cleavage line, were the poses of adoration as she wa
