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His blue eyes stare back at him from the small mirror his blond hair is muddled as always, despite your efforts. After putting on a t-shirt and jeans, he rubs his eyes, trying to clear the lethargy of his mind that seemed to have fallen on him over the last few days. As he stumbles groggily down the stairs, he glances at the calendar hanging on the wall opposite the bottom of the stairs. Saturday, January 9th; it?s his 22nd today, he?s hoping for a fun day.As he?s entering the kitchen, he sees his mum cooking his breakfast. He sits down at the table.?Simon!, you gave me a fright, Happy birthday son, How are you?? she says as puts on bacon, sausages and an eggs on his plate "Not bad thanks, Mum, a little tired still," says Simon Simon then gets up and walks over to the fridge grabbing a glass on the way. Just as he?s pouring himself some orange juice, his sister, Tracey comes into the kitchen wearing a long nightshirt and boxers. Just as he replaces the juice in the fridge and returns. As Natasha looked around the flat looking for clues, the doorbell rang which she answered. The visitor was a young woman who looked relieved when she saw Natasha & told her she was glad she was OK as she was worried about not hearing from her. Natasha realised the visitor's error as she explained to the visitor she was not Claire but in fact her twin sister. The visitor who then introduced herself as Tina, Claire's friend expressing her surprise at how alike Natasha looked with Claire.Natasha explained why she was there as she was concerned that Claire had not made contact for a few days where Tina echoed those concerns explaining why she called round.As they chatted, Natasha learned that Tina was Claire's colleague also working as a stripper. Tina explained recently Claire was getting attention from one male customer at the club that Tina didn't like the look of. Claire started getting more involved with him, chatting discreetly with him whenever he visited the club. His name was.
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She had beautifully cut and styled silver grey hair which was complimented by the blue tinted frameless spectacle she always wore. She was facially wrinkled but her extensive collection of stylish one-piece swimsuits revealed an extraordinarily good figure and fabulous skin which spoke of hours of moisturisation and the tanning bed. He wondered if the wrinkles were a relic of a life in the tropics, that perhaps she was the widow of a retired expat. Other than a simple wedding ring on her left hand and a plain gold man’s watch with a leather strap on her right wrist, she wore no jewellry. An accomplished hostess, she effortlessly held the centre of any convivial group that might form. Mex was fascinated, though for the life of him he couldn’t work out why. She was, after all, at least twenty years older than him, old enough, he suddenly realised, to be his mother. Perhaps it was that distinctive cloud of Chanel No.5 which followed her everywhere. As the days passed, they progressed to.

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