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She was wearing a figure-hugging strapless dress. She was, I guessed, early 30s tall with a nice figure. Braless her boobs were firm looking and with pronounced nipples showing under the dress. Obviously she was already turned on. “Come in darling” she said. I followed her into the lounge room. “This is Cindi” she said “my slutty bitch”. I was stunned. “Cindi” was in fact her husband. He was wearing a corset, crotchless pantyhose and high heels. He had on a long blonde wig and full make-up. His. She wondered if she was still dreaming and quickly blinked a couple of times. But the man was still there when she looked again."Shall we dance my dear?" he asked with a smile, his hand held out in invitation.Eleanor wanted to speak, but her lips stubbornly refused to obey her. She moved her mouth, but nothing came out. Instead she stared up into the dark eyes and handsome face of her companion. He waited patiently for her response, his mouth curled in amusement.Helplessly Eleanor took his. First though, I waved my hand in front of my face to make sure I was still invisible. I don’t think there could’ve been anything worse than having to explain how I’m floating in the air to passerby’s. I took a deep breath, and with some intense thinking I was able to propel myself upward. However, I went a little too fast. The air screamed by my ears, my face pressing against my skull from the intense force. When I managed to correct myself and come to an instant stop a couple seconds later, I. "Just the right chemistry maybe. I don't profess to be a super stud or anything; I just try to give a girl a good time." Are you married?"Her question caught me a bit by surprise. "I'm separated." I replied, truthfully, —Miriam was in London, and I was here in Belfast. "What about you?"Sudden tears showed in her eyes. "Widowed." Her voice was low, and full of pain."I'm so sorry..." I began; she stopped me with her hand on my arm."It was three years ago; he was in the wrong place at the wrong.
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