From her wardrobe she took out the suit she had bought for the occasion. Luckily, it was an ideal choice for the weather that day. A simply cut, oyster-coloured suit of pure silk with a deep roll collar. She laid it carefully on the king-size bed, then tossed her mink wrap and Chanel leather handbag alongside it.

She unzipped her housegown and shrugged it off, allowing it to fall to the floor, then stood looking critically at her reflection in the long cheval mirror. She turned from side to side, tightening her stomach and buttocks muscles, throwing back her shoul-ders to uplift her full, slightly drooping breasts.

At sixty-six, she was still an attractive woman. No-one ever believed her true age. She could easily pass for fifty. Her figure was good, it had been spared the distortions of childbearing and she had been careful with her diet. Her lustrous chestnut coloured hair bore testimony to the extravagant claims made by the manufacturer of the brand of hair colour used by her hair stylist. The exorbitant fees Jules charged his clientele were a small price to pay for the results he achieved.

Not displeased with what she saw, she smiled at the figure in the mirror, scooped up her housegown and slid it onto its padded hanger in the wardrobe. She went quickly into the bathroom and took her bathrobe off the hook behind the door.

She had bathed much earlier, pouring scented bath salts generously into the steaming water before settling herself to luxuriate in its warm, fragrant embrace. Now, she shrugged into the thick towelling robe and, fastening the tie about her waist, returned to the bedroom.

Seating herself on the padded stool in front of the array of pretty bottles and jars on her dressing table, she deftly applied her make-up. Just enough. She sat back and critically inspected her appearance in the mirror. Satisfied with the result, she returned to the bathroom to wash her hands and discard the bathrobe.

Dream Dictionary