Even after all this time that soft voice of hers played like a song in my head. I also went bright red which made Jo-Anne point at me and then she laughed even louder. The chair next to me got pulled away and Erin sat on it her hand extended towards Jo-Anne. ‘Erin Ryan, his long suffering sexual plaything and mother of his beautiful baby girl.’ That sent Jo-Anne off on another round of laughter as she shook Erin’s hand. ‘Jo-Anne, his long suffering sister and it seems aunt to a niece I never knew I had.’ The handshake paused as Erin realized she had been caught out. ‘Oh shit, I see that didn’t work.’ Jo-Anne once again laughed enjoying watching Erin squirm in her seat for a moment and then said. ‘I like your entrance, but I think your exit strategy may need a little work.’ It was left to me to explain how we met, after that I didn’t get a word in edge ways. The monthly dinner between brother and sister turned into my sister getting to know Erin and me grunting in the appropriate. Her hair was fair, as golden as corn silk. She habitually wore it coiled high on her head, emphasizing the slim column of her throat. Knowing what a kiss right ‘there’ beneath her ear would do to her gave him a jingle every time he admired that slender column. She was regal in her bearing, her coloring golden. (Last sentence says what was said in previous sentences.) Ingrid on the other hand was a smallish woman, barely over five feet in height. She was certainly not dumpy but her womanly curves were pronounced. Ingrid was his best friend’s wife and his own wife’s cousin but she still gave him tingles when he surreptitiously admired her figure. With her Norwegian ancestry you would expect her to be as blonde as Charlotte. The opposite was true. Her hair was a blue black as dark as a moonless midnight. Ingrid wore her hair in ringlets, a midnight cap that emphasized her milk white complexion. Where Charlotte was reserved and aristocratic Ingrid was vibrant and lively, her essence.
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