Unravelled

Alone in a throng of elegantly dressed people, in the lavishly appointed reception room of a tasteful baltimore mansion, Tracy Clark began to sweat. Not a ladylike beading of perspiration on her upper lip. Not a moistness at her temple. No. Her tight Black cocktail dress was hanging downright damp as each additional person oozed into the already crowded party. A few minutes and there would be circles under her armpits and her makeup would run off her skin in great bisque streaks."Get me out of here," she murmured, wondering if she could make it through the sea of people to the exit. Surely, no one would notice if she slipped away. After all, she looked like practically every woman in the place. Ninety percent of the females at the party wore the typical city social uniform, a little black cocktail dress, sheer black stockings, shiny, never seamed. Ridiculously high heels, useless tiny bag barely big enough to carry a tub of lipstick. Not to mention the co

It was the thong panties that sent Raymond's chair tipping over into the pool. He was no voyeur, but damn, a gorgeous blond jumping on a trampoline flashing him a sweet glimpse of her curvy backside with every bounce? What red blooded american man would be able to resist that? He sure hadn't. So he'd leaned just a little too far and gone for an unexpected swim. The chilly water shocked him. If it hadn't been for the chair hitting him in the head, he would likely have leaped right back out. But the plastic arm of the lounger caught him in the temple, and for a moment or two, he experienced severe disorientation. All he knew was he was in the pool, and a chair and a padded cushion, growing heavier by the second as it soaked up water, were blocking him from air above. Before he could save himself, someone was yanking him by the arm, pulling him from under the obstacle.