"But you've got so many," she started to say.

"I mean the ones with the footballs on them. I can't wear jewelry any more. Orders around the office. Too many newspaper reporters coming through all the time. The boss has given up his diamond rings even. No more small pinkies. Imagine. He won't be able to show his face in City Hall."

Georgia laughed and tried to help him by looking around the bedroom a little bit, but she couldn't seem to locate the cufflinks he was referring to. Finally he changed to a button-cuff shirt and went back in the bathroom, and Georgia slipped a housecoat over her glowing body and went downstairs to start breakfast.

Karen, their thirteen year old platinum blonde daughter, was already humming and singing in the shower. Georgia smiled to herself and made her way down the stairs. Karen was certainly getting to be a beautiful girl. They would have to get together for a long mother-and-daughter chat very soon!

Going to the refrigerator, Georgia began in an orderly fashion to organize breakfast for the family. She kept her housecoat carefully closed when she caught sight of the milkman coming around, and then relaxed again. Really, though, she was the sort of woman who preferred to give her unusually well developed body free rein in its movements. She hated constricting clothing – except, of course, when it attracted attentive and appreciative male glances, and the housecoat normally fell open quite a lot in the ordinary course of things as she moved about her cozy kitchen.

Georgia had started the bacon and put out the pan for the eggs, and was setting out the plates and silverware and so on when she heard the scratching at the screen door.