Skin Deep

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“If looks could kill.”

Terry Farina was pleased with her image as she regarded herself in the mirror. She fluffed up her hair and touched up her lips, then turned to view her profile. The black satin sheath fit her like lacquer. Even without the straps, the dress would no doubt hold in place by the mere exertion of her flesh.

Her heart did a little jig at the thought of his dropping by. He had said he’d be over in about ten minutes, so she scrambled to straighten out the place, stuffing the mail into the kitchen cabinets, the counter drawers, and the dishwasher. She pushed books and papers into the closet and was just closing her laptop when he tapped at the front door.

She lit her face with a grand smile. “A man as good as his word,” she said as she swung open the door.

He held up a bottle of champagne. “Something to celebrate with.”

“Oh, how lovely. Thank you.” She closed the door and led him into the living room. He was dressed in a shiny jogging outfit and running shoes.

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