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Her jacket was expertly tailored and fit like a glove. Her pants…my Gawd, her pants! They highlighted her magnificent bottom, clinging to it and her upper thighs to the point that I thought their stitching would give way. Her feet were in her trademarked three-inch – this time burgundy – stiletto heels. Marsha must have warned her that she’d seen me. As I approached them, Cam turned, beaming, and greeted me with a ‘Hi, sailor!’ ‘Sorry I’m late,’ I apologized, at which point Marsha excused herself and left. I got the feeling that she was being used as a chaperone by Cam. Her independent manner told me that they didn’t work closely together. Cam led the way to our reserved table and we settled in. ‘Like some wine? My treat!’ she exclaimed. I had a light afternoon and needed to relax, so I happily said yes. A half-hour went by and we’d not talked about anything more important than the weather. Our lunch had arrived and we’d almost finished it. What had been so important yesterday? I. I suspect that her very wealthy Papa could have paid for her travel to meet them in the south of France, but that she opted to stay behind for my sake. Of course, she denies it completely, but that is just how good of a friend she is to me.During the last few months before I had to leave Uncle's hearth, my Mama took care to explain "things" in general to me. Her descriptions were all very clinical and she focused a good deal on the dangers faced by young girls who too freely allow conjunctions with men. Curiously, she didn't ever say that such things were either dirty or sinful, as I had expected. She didn't even tell me not to do it; she just warned about taking care not to get in the family way while unmarried and to always pay attention to sanitation and good hygiene. Her final word on the subject, while its import did not register at the time she said it, was the thing that now gives me suspicion about my Papa's lascivious designs on my person had he lived to see me grow up. She.
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