Pearl's Wisdom
Chapter 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa,

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The tale of a well-to-do forty-something woman who reaches the end of her tether and decides to regain control of her life.


Pearl swore, skinned three knuckles as she slammed down the phone, and swore again, long and loud with an intensity that would have made a lumberjack take a step or two back. She sucked them between pouty, red lips, and brusquely swept a thick lock of black hair away from eyes which blazed with indignant rage.

"Fuck-it," she muttered and ruefully examined the damage to her freshly manicured nails. He'd pay for that, too, she thought.

The irony that her partner paid for everything else didn't escape her but she ignored the fact as she paused in the hallway to pull herself together: Pearl had few likes or dislikes but the one thing she truly hated was to lose control and she was dangerously close to doing so right now. A deep breath. Another. Calm descended over her mind as a soothing mantra wove a spell of...

The phone rang. Again.

Paula's eyes opened like the jaws of striking snake, wide, feral and ready to envenom anyone or anything unwise enough to cross her path. Three quick strides brought her back to the phone. Her pale, slender hand snatched the shrill instrument from its cradle on the small table.

"Yes!" She snapped, in a rapier thin voice, cold enough to freeze the balls of most men. "What is it now?" Her hands clasped the plastic hard enough to whiten the knuckles and each word was spat with exquisite precision down the line. "Did you forget something, like, oh, I don't know; you love me; you're sorry for letting me down - again - you'll make it up to me; it'll never happen again. Bollox, Martin! I've had it with your limp excuses. If you're going to fuck that pretty secretary, have the balls to admit it. Be a man for once in your buttoned-up, settled-down excuse-for-a-life!"

Pearl took a moment to draw breath and was about to give her errant boyfriend another piece of her mind when she noticed something odd: he wasn't saying a word; in fact, he was breathing rather hard for a man supposedly sitting in a comfortable leather chair in a well furnished office in an exclusive part of the City. She thought for a moment that he had spitefully opened the line to let her listen to that pretty blonde working her nimble fingers over his rugged shaft, feeding the ripe plummy head in-between her perfect red lips, sucking more and... "you dirty bastard!" she hissed, letting the mental image of them fire her righteous fury to greater heights of ire. "You filthy fucking..."

A stream of invective flowed from her lips that would've stunned the ladies club to which she belonged; a modest coffee-clutch of local women whom she met every Thursday morning - to please her partner more than to keep up-to-date with the mundane tittle-tattle that passed for news in the hamlet where they'd lived for nearly three years now. Three short years filled with equal measures of frustration and pleasure which left her mind and body numb to think back upon them. Usually she drank to avoid the uncomfortable truth of her childless life and tonight was no exception: a half empty (ever the pessimist) tumbler of neat Scotch waited patiently for her in the elegant sitting room where she'd been absently watching a Soap spin out another implausible storyline before the phone rang and jolted her from the warm, fuzzy fumes of alcoholic immolation. She'd had a nice buzz going the first time it rang but this time it felt more like the sound an entire hive makes when it swarms into the sky: full of dark purpose and undeterred by any man-made obstruction.

A soft moan inserted itself into a gap between the obscene and vicious sarcasm pouring from her, giving her pause for further thought. Martin wouldn't do this to her. He could be kinky, yes, but not so sick-in-mind as to disrespect her in such a crass and boorish manner. It didn't even sound like him, she thought, and felt an ice-cold trickle of fear scurry up her spine like the fingers of a fresh corpse, tickling her deeper insecurities into a cowering knot, just between the third and fourth vertebra at the nape of her neck. She caught her breath and felt it calm her down enough to make sense of what was happening: some pervert, probably in a call-box, had the effrontery to breathe silent innuendo into her ear. Yes, now she listened more carefully, she could hear traffic go by, faintly, in the background, beyond the harsh rasp of his lungs which rose and fell with varying degrees of intensity, shaking slightly at each exhalation as though he was... her mind recoiled from the image - then went back for a closer look and showed her there was nothing to fear. What could he do to her from there? Nothing! He was just a sad old man panting at random, like a dog chasing cars in the road, threatening much but promising very little other than a cheap thrill.

Pearl laughed.

Gently but firmly her mirth rose in volume, and the harder her would-be tormentor breathed the louder she laughed. It felt like a catharsis as each peal of laughter drove the black clouds away, leaving her mood light, playful... and very mischievous. She switched the phone onto speaker and went back into the sitting room, knocked back her drink with élan, poured another and went back into the hall thinking; 'two can play that game, ' and told her cold-caller to breathe louder. To her considerable amusement, he did, and she pondered what he looked like as she poured more Scotch (Glenfiddich - only the best, for her). Probably wears one of those awful Macs, she mused, and has a rough-and-rugged face, weather-beaten and speckled with grey stubble, she went on, drinking slowly, eyes closed, picturing the man rubbing himself under the Mac as he panted hard... probably imagining what she looked like too, no doubt. Pearl chuckled and let her hand slide down her skirt, between her thighs - "why not," she murmured, kitty hasn't played for a long time.

A long time for Pearl could be anything from a day to a week; depending on her mood and menstrual cycle. It had been three long days, two whole nights since Martin had shown her any affection, and a rush of heat deep inside her body swept a lingering reservation aside.

She licked her lips, took a swift sip of the biting spirit and lit a cigarette, blowing thick smoke back down the line in a vigorous exhalation, challenging the unseen obscene caller to come along with her for the ride - or get off the line.

He chose to stay - his erection was so hard it made leaving the phone booth impossible, anyway. It wasn't every day (or night) that his victim chose to hang on - let alone join in the fun. This was going to be a memorable evening, he felt and, although he usually didn't say a word, as tonight was going to be different from the run-of-the-mill he cleared his throat and rasped out a statement which always shocked them:

"I've got a ten inch cock."

Pearl gave a derisive snort and took another drink.

"I just bet you have," she said sarcastically, and asked a question of her own to regain the initiative. "Most women have put the phone down by now," she purred, "haven't they?"

A guttural moan indicated this was true.

Pearl's eyes glittered with malice and she took another sip, undid two buttons on her cream silk blouse to leave her bra exposed to the warm air and blew her caller a kiss with a little giggle. She hadn't felt so coquettish for years, since her early teens when teasing the local boys to mindless distraction with flashes of her cotton knickers and thick tights, with unspoken promises for more that never were fulfilled - until a larger youth from the next town had overcame her delicate teasing with an ardent passion that blew her virginity away with savage desire. She'd wanted it, of course, but the way he took what was freely given left deep wounds which suppurated and spilled fresh torment through her psyche from time-to-time that caused much anguish in her relationships. Martin's refusal to marry her didn't ease the anxiety, either, and every passing year brought the failure (as she saw it) of her life into sharper focus: The expensive car in the driveway; the jewellry; the designer clothes; the first-class lifestyle he bought for her no longer assuaged the fundamental flaw within her very soul: she needed love - she deserved love and craved it with all of her heart.

The irony was, the more she craved it the less she seemed to receive. Martin had begun to find more and more reasons to stay at the office or the golf club in recent months, and this latest excuse was simply the final straw. Pearl would simply take out her frustrations on this nameless, faceless entity and damn the consequences.

"Don't you want to know what I'm wearing?" Pearl said. "Isn't that what men like you always want to know?"

The word 'men' slipped out with cold contempt and Pearl was surprised at the sudden rush through her whole body as she realised how the tables had turned. She could sense the hesitation in his breathing, the way it faded and stuttered uncertainly at this unexpected assault from what should've been the victim.

"Well, I'll tell you what I'm wearing - and listen to you stroking your... cock while I do so - and, if you please me, I might take them off, understood?" Pearl said, and went on without waiting for, or expecting, a reply. Just saying the word, 'cock' out loud gave her a vicarious thrill and she felt a moist spot seep into the gusset of her pale blue panties (a thoughtful present from Martin - he knew how much she loved Victoria's Secret lingerie) "You mustn't stop stroking yourself until I tell you to, and you most definitely must not cum before me, either, understood?"

A long, deep groan told her he understood perfectly and she smiled, like a cat that's just spotted a mouse has come one step too far into the kitchen. She knocked back her drink, set the tumbler upon the small, ornate table by the front door and stood up to begin unzipping her skirt, allowing it to fall into a deep blue pool around her slim ankles.

"Oh my!" She simpered. "My skirt fell off!"

Her cut-glass vowels were slightly slurred but her caller didn't appear to notice. His breath rasped past her ear with an eager intensity to hear more and she didn't disappoint him, feeling her own arousal rise higher at the sound of him panting to get at her, inside her. A thrill of terror cavorted on her nervous system with the abandon of a tap-dancer on acid. 'What if he's just down the road, in the call-box on the corner?' She wondered. It would only take a minute for him to close the distance and come crashing through her front door, taking her in his arms and... 'oh dear, get hold of yourself, girl, ' she scolded herself, 'as long as you hear him on the line, what's to worry about?' Pearl ran a finger along her elegant thigh and didn't feel worried at all, actually, she felt warm (too warm!) and drunk enough to feel carefree and merry without feeling self-conscious of the fact she was half-naked in her own home with a complete stranger panting like a dog with a bone, on her phone.

"Well, it is getting far too warm in here to wear that, anyway," she declared, smiling broadly around her cigarette. "I might as well take off this blouse, too, before it gets all sweaty and sticky."

Another loud groan burst from the speaker and Pearl giggled as she plucked the tiny buttons free. The blouse fell like snow upon her skirt and settled softly into a fragrant pool around her feet.

"Now all I'm wearing are my bra, panties and stockings," she said, and chuckled softly at the sound of his breathing coupled with an image of him hanging on to his penis with a grip like death. "I'll take my bra off... if you tell me how big it really is."

A loud gasp burst on her eardrum and echoed deep into her mind, stimulating a fresh flow of juices between her parted thighs. Pearl placed her moist lips to the phone and added that her nipples were popping out of her bra, for his benefit. Another loud groan rang through the aether and was followed by a series of faster breaths, like a man trying to extract oxygen from high altitude.

Pearl wondered if the pervert was telling the truth about his penis and licked her lips at the thought of her partner's full length: a very handsome eight inches, when aroused, and a commanding tool to take on, too. A flash of cold fury gripped her heart at the thought of his secretary getting the pleasure of him and she snapped angrily at the heavy breather:

"Come on, come on! Tell me, now, or I put the phone down and call the police!"

A sharp intake of breath followed by a silence so sudden it shocked them both into a moment of reason.

"Okay, okay," the man said, "eight inches."

Pearl's eyes widened "Liar!"

"It's the truth."

"Truth!" She scoffed. "You wouldn't know truth if it bit your scabby arse!"

Pearl knew men liked to exaggerate but this was ridiculous. "Tell me the truth." She quietly demanded after several seconds where the man got back into a regular heavy rhythm. In through the mouth and out through the nose, by the sound of it - in-out, in-out, hypnotic, alluring, a measured heartbeat of sound which made Pearl's heart beat faster each time the breath rolled over her eardrum, rapping out a rhythm that inflamed her desire and soaked her flesh without putting out the fire therein: in fact, building up to a higher level of sexual awareness, if anything.

"Tell me," she repeated and absently twirled her nipple through the gossamer-thin material of her bra. "Now!"

A stubborn silence punctuated with small gasps drifted down the line, and Pearl was on the verge of hanging up when he boldly told her that it was true. He repeated it when Pearl said nothing in response and coughed nervously as her silence stretched his nerve to breaking point. Pearl took another sip and smiled, not really caring if it was true or not; the thought of this pervert wanking himself silly as she egged him on was too delicious to miss - and provided her with a wonderful opportunity to hit back at her partner without actually hurting anyone in the process. Perfect! She eased her breasts up from the lacy cups of her bra and ran a moist finger around her nipples, gasping at the way each one crinkled in response to her tender caress, imagining a man's lips, his mouth, sucking each fleshy bud on to a moist, rugged tongue, licking them into hard points of pleasure, teeth tenderly raising her awareness of how sensitive they could get when she was in the mood: as she most definitely was, now.

The initiative was firmly in her hand - even more firmly than he held his cock (however big) - and she wasn't about to relinquish it. Pearl's smile spread down her body to the soft center where her thighs opened wide, her slit split round the sodden gusset. Her fingers danced between them, pulling the wet silk away from the hot flesh, dabbling her magic touch knowingly over the most sensitive spots - there, there and, oh yes, there!

"I know what you want," she groaned, tenderly pulling the tiny bud between finger and thumb, "but I want to hear it from your own lips."

Her groan echoed back, amplified by the man's response, sending a deep resonance through her body.

"Come on, pervert," she went on, slipping a fingertip into her mouth, sucking on it provocatively loud for his benefit before sliding it between the puffy lips of her tingling sex, "stroke that fucking(I) cock in my ear!"

Pearl groaned loudly and pushed her finger deep, curling it behind her clit to massage the most sensitive spot of all. Her nipples rose like cherry tipped snow-cones when she began to massage her clit, bursting with ripe passion for a man to...

"Slap that big dick," Pearl crooned, "slap it on my clit!"

Her voice rose to a throaty cry on the last word as Pearl felt the realisation of what she was doing hit her like a sock full of sand, a finger buried knuckle-deep between her wide open legs. She could hear the man's breathing rasp faintly in the background; a hearty, meaty slap-slap rapping out a hot rhythm, sliding back and forth across the receiver as though trying to penetrate the distance between them through sheer force of will.

"Wank it," she panted, "wank on my pussy, you pervert."

The man's breathing rose a notch and the rhythm beat a frantic tattoo on the line.

Pearl slammed another finger inside the maelstrom between her shaking thighs and uttered a long moan; a primal instinct swept aside her everyday inhibitions, urging him to take her, to hold back nothing, to give his all for her pleasure without succumbing to his own impulse. An hour ago, she would've put the phone down after the first insinuating breath but was just in the mood to tease the dirty old man until he begged for her sweet mercy...

"Oh, yes..." Pearl whispered, and pushed the heel of her hand onto her mons, grinding her clit hard "... yes..." she whimpered, feeling it throb appreciatively "... yessss!" She splayed both fingers, spreading her pussy lips wider and gasped as a trickle of warm juices flowed between the plush cheeks of her bottom. She bit her lip and stifled a cry of pleasure by jamming three fingers in her mouth, imagining him filling her with hot meat, thrusting hard, holding her head steady to make sure he could fuck her throat as he wished, the stale odours of his unwashed body gagging her, exciting her, arousing her to hitherto unknown heights of pure lust. Briefly, she toyed with the notion of pausing to fetch her vibrator, a thick, purple power-tool that never failed to push all her buttons but the idea of breaking the rhythm was impossible to bear and she grinned when she felt the first anniversary gift Martin had given her - a twin set of beautiful pearls ("... for my Pearl.") - slide to the other side of her breast as she writhed into a more comfortable position. They would do. For now - and, besides, he could damn well buy her a new set, anyway!

"I want you," she said, loudly enough for her mystery-man to prick up his ears and listen. "I want you to..." she paused and moaned for added effect, then: "... to make me (her right hand grabbed the necklace hard -) CUM!" She yelled and snatched the string of pearls from her neck and, with an exuberant flourish, scattered beads over her body and onto the floor, where they popped and rolled and shattered all semblance of normalcy in her demeanour.

The earthy side of her nature rarely exhibited such wanton disregard for convention: Pearl wanted to let herself go in such ways she'd never explored before. She liked a good hard fuck as much as the next girl but this emotion was altogether more potent than the usual 'fuck-me' routine she usually resorted to. Her nipples felt so swollen she feared they would burst and her pussy felt too empty for comfort: she needed a man... and she needed one now.

"Spit in your hand!" Pearl said curtly, and groaned; "yes," as she heard him do as she commanded. "Now, wrap your hand tight around your cock..." both gasped at the frisson growing hotter between them, enticing them deeper into this bizarre phantasia, "... and, think of it - in my mouth."

Pearl pushed several pearls into her mouth and sucked hard on the smooth jewels until her lips dripped with spittle. She scooped up some errant drops on her fingers and slapped them onto her clit, crying aloud with a pleasure so intense it was almost painful, tingling along her nervous system like a good coke rush. She could practically feel him moving inside her, taste him, smell his lust, his need to feed her with all the essence he possessed, to satiate her desire, her power over his fundamental instinct to give her all she demanded with no thought for his own passion. SHE came before all other considerations. She wanted: SHE got.

"Fuck!" She almost ejaculated the word into his ear and heard him sigh: "yes," in reply.

The very moment they thought of being inside one another brought him perilously close to losing control over his throbbing cock and she enjoyed a moment of trembling anticipation of the greater pleasure to come. Making him wait for ultimate release was too sweet to savour and she relished every moan, groan and heartfelt sigh whenever she pulled his libido this way or that, pushing him to serve her will.

Pearl pulled the string of pearls from her mouth and rolled them down her body, over her breasts, her belly, pushing one into her navel, onto her clit, inside her slit and letting the sticky balls form a disorderly queue along the crack of her arse to wait their turn inside her streaming cunt, teasing the obscene caller and completely turning the tables on his perverse plans to shock her.

"You're enjoying this," she panted, "aren't you?"

The man moaned and gibbered something which she couldn't quite hear through the bubbling groans.

Pearl grinned wickedly and went on rolling the pearls over her sensitive skin, trailing them between her legs: "I bet your dicks no bigger than my finger," she laughed, adding, "and those balls are like -" she giggled "- like a pair of prunes... all wrinkled and dry!"

Her sardonic peals of laughter rang in his ears but he held on determinedly, panting like a man halfway through running a marathon. She hooked her arms around her knees and held both legs up higher, wider, opening herself to lewdly explore the depraved depths of their imaginations:

"I hope your tongue is long, though" she gasped at the moist, cool sensation of the first pearl as it slipped smoothly up her syrupy hole, "long enough to..." she groaned as the next pearl slid swiftly up inside her slippery pussy, "... lick me out. That's right," she moaned again and pushed two more inside the sticky pool of creamy juices, "lick my..." she paused to savour the moment, "... my cunt." She emphasised the end of the sentence with a loud, lusty moan, tasting the word on the tip of her tongue.

"Suck it." Pearl continued, pushing a handful of jewels between her legs, hooking a loop around her palm to ensure a firm grip and pressing it onto the head of her pulsating clitoris.

The intrepid breather sucked harder for oxygen as he climbed higher, ascending nearer the peak of pleasure which beckoned him on with the allure of a Siren, screaming madly for him to approach - but come no closer, lest he succumb to temptation and reach the crest before She.

"Suck my clit!" Pearl enhanced her own pleasure with every dirty word spoken, teasing her own lust out from where it had lain submissive for so long - too long - and felt them resonate with her deepest desire. "Suck it," she insisted, thrusting her hips up towards the fantasy filling her mind, and body, with a delicious frisson of excitement. To her utter delight, she could hear his tongue lapping at the receiver as though trying to slide all the way along the line into her writhing body: "Oh, yes!" Pearl cried out with unrestrained vigour. "Stick your tongue in there! Slide it all over my body!"

She rubbed the phone over her breasts, crying out for him to suck them, too, pulling on her nipples until they resembled large cherries, red and plump: "so suckable," she purred, pulling one in-between thumb and index finger, rolling it on the smooth pads and flattening it down, pressing it hard before releasing the rubbery teat and watching it throb, red and hot, wanting (needing) his wet mouth to cool down the violently throbbing flesh.

"Suck my tits," she moaned, "bite them, pinch them - go on..." Pearl crooned, enticing him into doing whatever she wanted, "... suck on them... harder, yes... rub your cock... on my clit -- oh God, yes!"

"Put your tongue out -" she instructed, "- right out - I'm going to sit on your face," a loud gasp told her how good the idea sounded to him and she grinned, "ready?"

Ready or not, Pearl was in the zone and so high on sexual ecstacy that an earthquake couldn't stop her now. She pulled gently on the string of pearls, now slippery and shining with her juices, and moaned softly at the way it popped from her body, like the cork from the bottle of champagne Martin had bought to celebrate her Fortieth birthday. Life, they said, began at forty but Pearl had put plenty of effort into the preceding years and wasn't about to slow down now. She hadn't enjoyed a good phone-fuck since the early months of her relationship with Martin and fully intended to use this unexpected opportunity to its fullest. Another pearl slid from its slippery nest and she wriggled at the delicious sensation building in her loins.

"Eat me!" Pearl moaned and pushed the phone right in the crack of her arse, grinding down on the hot plastic as though his tongue was actually there - right there - licking, sucking, "oh, God!" Fucking both holes, alternating between her wide open wet cunt and the tighter hole below where few men had delved. "Yes, you dirty bastard," she whispered and wished for a moment to hear his reaction, "I'm cumming -" her voice rose an octave as each pearl slid from her gushing fuck-hole, "- fuck... my cunt... my arse... with your tongue... lick, suck... oh, fuck-fuck - fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

Her orgasm washed through her like tsunami: wave upon wave of total rapture; immersed in bliss, Pearl could only writhe ecstatically and gibber incoherently at the intense sensation shimmering up her spine and out of her mouth in a series of gasping moans and groans at the intensity of it all. She ripped the remaining pearls from her pussy with an exuberant yell and placed the receiver beside her ear again, listening to his staccato breath rise and fall in shared joy.

"I hear you," she said, "wanking at my hot," - she emphasised the final consonant with a snap of her teeth - "wet. Cunt."

A deep groan accompanied her revelation and for a moment, she thought he'd lost control. Her grip tightened on the slippery phone and she snapped: "don't you dare!"

"No, Madam!" His reaction told her all she needed to know. Forewarned of the consequences, her new plaything was prepared to go all the way with the fantasy in order to get the most out of their faceless encounter.

Pearl waited a minute for him to regain a semblance of composure then whispered softly: "Good boy," as though letting a favoured pet know how lucky they were to be in her possession. "Very good!"

"Thank you, Madam," he promptly replied, sounding comfortable with his role in her fantasy.

"You're a very naughty boy," she added, slipping her left shoulder, then the right, from the confining straps of her bra, "a very, dirty boy," she sighed and pulled the cups from her breasts, letting them swing free gratefully now her nipples felt so swollen, "aren't you?"

The pervert sighed and groaned, "yes Madam," unable to disagree with her assessment - even if he wanted to.

"Now, tell me," Pearl murmered in a voice dripping with seductive promise, "did you cum?"

"No Madam -"

"- truthfully -"

"- honest, I didn't!"

"- why not?"

"Because you haven't told me to, yet." The man whimpered, desperation rife in his voice."

"Am I not good enough for your slimy spunk?" Pearl teased, enjoying the man's obvious discomfort."

"Oh yes, Madam!" He assured her eagerly, panting like a dog practicing a new trick.

"Then you'd better make sure there's plenty in those tiny balls," she laughed, "because my pussy is very -" she hooked a finger through the waistband of her panties and began to pull them slowly away from her steamy crotch, "- very thirsty!"

"Oh, Madam," he moaned, "I wish I could taste it!"

Pearl smiled and shimmied out of her panties, kicked them off, and switched the phone over to give her hand a rest. "I'm sure you do," she muttered derisively. "Tell me," she said conversationally, "exactly how much would you like to taste this -" she slipped a finger in the syrupy pool between her thighs "-hot, wet cunt," and stirred it around, pulled it out with glutinous langour, and sucked it slowly and noisily, sending the pervert into paroxysms of erratic breathing which sounded like he was attempting to inhale the heady aroma.

"More than anything!" He panted.

"Really?" Pearl smiled around a dripping finger tip. "More than fucking it?"

"Whatever Madam wishes!" The breather rasped diplomatically, earning a bark of sardonic laughter from Pearl who was beginning to warm to her task.

"Madam wishes alot more than you can possibly give, little man."

"I have here all she could wish for - and more, besides."

"That, I doubt."

"Oh, but it's so true!"

"I don't really give a shit!" Pearl snapped, and knelt on the floor, past caring whether he was holding eight or nine inches, or 8 or 9 millimetres.

"No, really," he persisted, "I know it's bigger than your husbands -"

"- you wish!"

" - I know. Why else would you not hang up?" He added, "Because you crave something he can't give you - a big fucking cock!"

Pearl hesitated. It was true that she craved something from her husband - a baby - and her heart ached at the thought she hadn't conceived after so much yearning. It wasn't fair! A whispery laugh tickled her ear and she felt a black cloud of hate envelop her soul, obscuring all reason. "You bastard!"

If the man had been stood in front of her she would've slapped his face and kicked his balls so far, it would take him a year and a day to find them again. However, it wasn't him she was really angry with, it was the pretty young woman who she felt sure was enjoying her husband behind her back. That hurt her more than anything, and she felt the anger turn to hate. A hate so black it filled her mind like poison - and the only antidote was to confront them. Now, or never.

"It takes more than that to be a man!" Pearl snapped and slammed the phone down hard enough to make the instrument bounce out of its cradle onto the floor, where it lay buzzing reproachfully.

She kicked it out of her way and stormed into the bedroom, stepped into a pair of jeans and dived headfirst into a thick jumper, looked critically at herself in the floor-length mirror and, without further prevarication, made her way out with an attitude that brooked no obstacles in her path.

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