Chapter Six
It was the end of March. A harsh wind cut through every piece of clothing I wore: my wool coat, my sweater and my black skirt. The air touched my bare p***y with biting shots of cold, though I had become used to the instructions that Janet had spelled out.
I thought often of our brief meeting. The fragrance of her body, mingling with the smell of food that permeated the restaurant, had left an indelible impression on me. That memory would come back when I least expected it, when I passed by a restaurant, or the perfume counter at Macy’s, or when I saw another woman who reminded me of Janet. None of these women could even come close to her in attitude, but that stern perfect look was everywhere around me.
I remembered her every time I dressed in the morning. With the lace un
