“My, my look what the cat drug in?” she heard a pompous voice coming from the corner of the room, and looked to see a young man of her age admiring her.
“What makes you say that?” Christina said bewildered.
“You’ve got to be a first-class dare-devil wearing that to mother’s big night.”
“She complimented me on it,” Christina retorted. Too bad her head was so fuzzy, but she was hardly keeping her balance, leaning against a leather chair. She didn’t remember until that moment, that she’d had s*x for lunch not food; it was nearly seven o’clock and she had four glasses of wine in her stomach, nothing else.
“Of course she would be gracious,” the young man said. “My mother’s a lady.”
“And you’re saying I’m not?” Christina asked.
“Ah, you’re a lady all right. Maybe we could even get together
