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I knocked on the door, lightly, hoping against hope that it would not be answered. Cindy greeted me, smiling sweetly, with a typically unaffectionate kiss on the cheek, then took my coat and placed it in the closet. She turned back to me and smiled again, but this time it was one of her phony half-smiles that were always trite and contrived. She was wearing a medium-length, tight- fitting, jet-black skirt, with four inch slits on each side, and a long-sleeved, white, cotton blouse with the three top buttons undone to reveal more than a little of her lacy bra cups which were more than amply filled.

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