Sir Francis pressed the worthy fellow’s hand, and his master said, ‘Well done!’ which, from him, was high commendation, to which Passepartout re...lied that all the credit of the affair belonged to Mr. Fogg. As for him, he had only been struck with a ‘queer’ idea, and he laughed to think that for a few moments he, Passepartout, the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant fireman, had been the spouse of a charming woman, a venerable, embalmed rajah! As for the young Indian woman, she had been unconscious. I showed them where the hoes and rakes were kept. Out of the corner of my eyes I was admiring Nicole. She was tall maybe five foot six or seven with skinny coltish legs that ran up into her loose fitting shorts that were half way down to her knees. She had small boobs that did look a bit bigger than Beckys and her face was beautiful framed by her long hair. Her skin look so soft and so blemish free just asking to be touched. Mary showed up and took the girls to the garden to show them want she. ‘What happened,’ I asked. ‘I forgot I was naked and ran into the living room to get my purse not knowing that your mother was there. Oh my god, honey, I was NAKED.’ ‘She’s seen naked before,’ I said. ‘She’s seen me naked several times.’ ‘Yes, but she’s your mother not mine.’ ‘I’m sure she doesn’t think any less of you,’ I said. ‘She might even have enjoyed it.’ ‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed.’ ‘I’ll go ask her if it bothered her.’ I said. ‘Don’t you dare, Danni. I swear,. ‘A pretty good story,’ he remarked. ‘Nice holiday entertainment. But it could have used more sex.’ She burst out laughing. Glancing at the clock and setting the book aside, he stood up and held out his hand. ‘Come on,’ he tugged at her, ‘let’s go for a walk.’ ‘Really? There’s no snow. It’s just cold out there’ she teased. ‘Cold days are a waste without snow.’ She considered for a moment. ‘Well, they’re good for snuggling too,’ she added with a small laugh. ‘Yes, really. Just for a little.
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