But what I really wanted was to drop my drawers and offer myself to him, too. He would never guess that, of course, because my bulky raccoon coat and sealskin driving hat-and an incensed expression-camouflaged my secret needs. I'd spent my lifetime perfecting a stern, impenetrable facade, so this young swain had no idea what I was thinking when my gaze flickered back to his buried treasure. He took me for a slender, professorial male pushing thirty, not for the prowling tigress I really was.
"Billy…oh, Billy please don't stop," his lover pleaded.
What a cocky thing, this Billy with the stubbled jaw and dark, disheveled hair falling in waves around his face. Yet when his lady-friend tossed her blonde locks to coax him on, my jaw dropped. That was Lucy Legg he was screwing! Daughter of the magistrate who was due to stride between those double doors of the courthouse any minute!
Oh, they made a pretty pair, with his darker body pressed into her pink, quivering slit, but something smelled fishy and it wasn't Miss Lucy's drippings-although her fragrance, intensified by the chilly wind whispering in the alley, had already drifted my way. No, my gut reaction was that Lucy, the Magistrate's darling daughter, was using herself as bait to hook this amorous young man for an ulterior purpose. Something about her expression as she gazed toward the courthouse, waiting…the offhand way her fingertips brushed her stomach…told a story her young stud wouldn't understand unless someone spelled it out for him.