MRS. JEKYLL SAT ON the day bed in her boudoir, arranging the folds of her skirt to the most aesthetically pleasing configuration before allowing herself to be seen. Something devilish whispered in her ear, and she considered raising it a bit to show a glimpse of ankle.
“Good heavens, you wicked thing,” she scolded herself. “That will be quite enough of that.”
She lowered her hem to the floor and looked up. She was ready.
“You may enter,” she called out.
The door opened and Henry entered, only a tad sheepishly. “My darling! How beautiful you look,” he told her from the doorway.
Mrs. Jekyll raised one beckoning arm toward him and allowed him a welcoming smile. Jekyll sighed with relief and crossed to her. He took the proffered hand and kissed it gingerly between the third and fourth knu
