***

She found the house easily and was impressed, which almost removed the last of her irritation. It was large, stone built and in its own grounds. So Hilary hadn't been lying when she laughed about how her husband had made a killing in real estate.

Hilary opened the door almost as Annabelle rang the bell.

"Oh, how wonderful," she gushed, "do come in."

Annabelle was curious to see the house and didn't need much urging.

"Sit down, have a drink," Hilary said, waving at a stool against the large wooden table.

"Er, well thank you, but I don't drink often," Annabelle said, "and I must be getting along." She glanced around the room and wondered if she'd ever live like this. Of course she would, when her prince came along.

"Oh, you must stay to dinner," Hilary said, "my husband is dying to meet you, after what I've told him. Now, gin and tonic?"

"Er…" Annabelle said, but she was already sitting down at the table in a sort of a dream as Hilary poured her the drink. She watched Hilary, her assured movements, her grace as she paraded around. Annabelle wanted to look as good as she did when she was forty, for Hilary had a strong, handsome face, with a straight nose, clear brown eyes and high cheek bones. Her brown hair surrounded her face in a slightly ragged cut that complimented her perfectly, and even her casual skirt and while blouse seemed to increase the perfection of her figure.

The door opened and a young teenager came in.

"Ah, my daughter, Zoe," Hilary said. "Zoe, this is Annabelle."

"Hi," the girl said rather sulkily. She had something of her mother's beauty, though her eyes were darker and more sensual, and her mouth fuller, her red lips pouting with each move she made. For some reason she was dressed in a sexy little maid's outfit, with white apron, little white cap and a tight dress that showed her tits perfectly and had a hem that stopped well short of her knees. Below the skirt, black mesh stockings outlined a pair of curvaceous legs down to the high-heeled pumps she wore.