Book Club

By Angi Jones

Ten women get together once a month to share books and LIFE including all the ups and downs associated with growing up and growing old. The story explores themes from everyday life and the lessons learnt from the consequences of actions and decisions. It touches on serious issues interspersed with light hearted advice and plenty of humour. Be transported through South African education and politics, hear the voice of belief, feel the significant moments in life, understand more about love and lust and stare death in the face. It is a story of discovery, a tale of decadence, words woven together to create a tapestry of lavish, sensual descriptions that is sure to touch your life!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781496989598

Angi Jones

She is a teacher and life time learner and she has used some of the lessons that life has taught her to guide other women. She tries to be an inspiration, a tonic in every situation, a worker, a dreamer, someone who contributes meaningfully to society. She has the degrees that she has studied for and the degrees that the University of Life has conferred on her, of love, integrity, selflessness and honour, balanced with those of disappointment, guilt and shame. Angi and her husband live and work in Port Elizabeth with their three happy children who have inherited some of their zest for life. She believes in sprinkling happiness wherever she goes and is sure to find a highlight in every day. She has found her own joy – share it with her. I am Angi Jones – I am this woman.

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© 2015 Angi Jones. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/20/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4969-8958-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-8957-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-8959-8 (e)

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CONTENTS

February

March

April

Between April And May

May

Between May And June

June

Between June And July

July

The Funeral

The First Days Of August

August

September

October

November

‘For Him…..’

FEBRUARY

Marianna

Frustration

She gathered her books together, blowing dust off the cover of the top book. She never got to read even one page during the holidays. She thought back to the book club in November when she had selected the books, having the intention of devouring them all during the holidays. But that was before Gerry had collapsed, before the doctors and tests and waiting.

It was before they had to get to grips with the word cancer and all it had in store for them. And they had only just entered into its arena. IT seemed to make the rules, not doctors, not medicine, only the ravages of the disease, not only on the patient, but on the family.

Smiling wistfully while she packed ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ into the bag she used for book club, she wondered yet again to herself how she was going to deal with what would be coming her way. They had 4 children, she was a temporary teacher. They had no medical aid. Having always been healthy, they had never considered medical aid as an option and all 4 her babies had been born at ‘Provincial Hospital’ the state had looked after them well.

Gerry was a pilot and although he was well paid, he had only entered into this career at a late stage of life and she had managed to stay at home and look after the children during the later years of their marriage. She had started teaching 6 months before the ‘tornado’ had hit them, so she was still in a temporary position. They had lived well, had a mortgaged house and 2 children still studying and though he was legally booked off work until after the surgery, which was scheduled for 4 days’ time and thus still fully paid, she wondered for how long the company he flew for would still pay him a full salary. They had indicated the need for the board to meet in order to determine his conditions of service and the responsibility of the airline to him. But there were school fees and university registration fees to pay and very little money to use. She bit her bottom lip for the hundredth time that day, said a silent prayer and then with a squirt of perfume and a smile on her face, she picked up the bag and went to the TV room where Gerry was lying on the couch, a bottle of red wine half empty. ‘Drinking won’t help this Love’ she heard herself saying.

‘Maybe not completely but it makes me feel better for a while’ was his only retort. She kissed him on the forehead, smelling fear under the aftershave he wore. ‘I’m off to book club, I won’t be late. The food is in the oven when you and the kids want to eat.’

‘Goodbye,’ he mumbled, not taking his eyes off the TV.

She sighed inwardly and made her way down the passage to her daughter Shaynna’s room. She knocked and then popped her head around the door, ‘Bye sweetie. I’m off to book club, I won’t be late. Please keep an eye on Dad.’ Her 15 year old baby girl looked up at her from her desk. ‘No problem Mom, go and enjoy yourself, you deserve some time out. I will phone you if I need you. Kev will be home soon anyway. Mwah’ she blew a kiss.

She walked out of the house to her trusty old car thinking about how much Gerry meant to her, that she had never really thought about how much she appreciated what she had until she had heard the words terminal and cancer.

Marianna sighed again as she drove down the road. The bottle of wine on the seat next to her was an expensive one, from Gerry’s wine selection. Why should she drink plonk when he was putting away the expensive stuff?

She thought about the day she had had at school, the little smiles of delight she had seen on the faces of some of her learners, smiles of satisfaction for getting a sum right for the first time, for understanding an equation properly. She treasured those moments of happiness, glad that amongst the chaos she was able to find stillness and joy within. She was determined to hold onto the feeling for the evening with the book club ladies, who were bound to make her laugh and forget about cancer for a few hours.

*Marianna is a temporary teacher in her mid-forties who has just found out that her husband has colon and liver cancer. They have 4 children, 2 at school and a grandchild. Gerry, her husband, is an atheist and she worries more about his state of mind than anything else, that and how she will cope if he dies. She will have to make a decision that will change her life before the end of the year.

She is trying to make sense of this dark time in her life that she is experiencing*

Juliet

Memories

She looked at Andile’s expensive miniature bottles of whiskey in the bar and chuckled sadly, only she knew that almost half of them were full of cold black tea, she herself had indulged in the liquid gold alcohol, bottle by bottle. Her thoughts drifted to the hurried conversation they had had over a cup of coffee in their spacious modern, colour coded kitchen. He had stopped in after work to get dressed for a game of squash with his friends and gave her his itinerary for the weekend. They never spoke about life and love the way they used to. It was either about money or children or a list of ‘things to do.’ She had managed to run their home and coordinate the children’s’ activities whilst starting a business.

They had met at Fort Hare University when he was a visiting student and she was a secretary to one of the lecturers. That was a long time ago when relationships between black and white people were outlawed and he had being forced to go into exile. She had gone with him to America where they had lived freely until 1994 and where he had finally qualified as a medical doctor. She smiled to herself as she remembered the early days, when he was the only medical practitioner in a little rural town in the Eastern Cape, the people they had met and interacted with, she had been happy there, until she found out about Andile’s indiscretion.

They had moved out of the little town and into the city of Port Elizabeth when the husband of a lady who had been seeing Andile a little too often for a sore throat found out about their affair. He apparently still carried Andile’s’ picture around in his wallet and they had established that it wasn’t because he liked him! One didn’t argue with a bullet hole in your car door and a big crazy white man with a gun. That had happened 15 years ago and she probably should have left him then, but with three children under the age of 13 and no job, she had little or no choice but to stay with him and his womanizing, after all, he rationalized it was the African way to have many women.

Through the years, she had come to know the signs of a new woman. He became more aware of his appearance and used different aftershave. Also, the clothes he wore became younger, more hip and there were the unexplained calls late at night and the house calls he had to make after work and on Saturdays. When he phoned her, the calls were short and clinical, sticking to superficial topics, generally giving her an instruction. Sometimes they didn’t even say hello or good bye to each other anymore. She wondered when the indifference had begun.

And now, the children were grown up and studying and although she had lived in Port Elizabeth for many years, she still had few friends. She valued the group of ladies she had in her book club. They were all so different, some a little younger than she was, at that wondrous stage of womanhood, post pregnancy, pre-menopausal, who were about to enter into that time when a woman grew into herself. And then there were one or two who were older than what she was, who had already realized that one cannot leave one’s happiness in someone else’s hands.

She thought about the friends who had given freely of themselves to her in different ways during their journey together, Maxy owned a restaurant, Skye wrote children’s books, Andy worked for the Department of Education and Sabrina was a medical rep, Marianna and Vicky were teachers and June was like a favourite aunt, the rest of the ladies she didn’t know very well, yet she thought fondly of these women whom she could talk to about anything. They truly had been non-judgmental over the years and she had told them about Andile’s indiscretions, she had felt somehow responsible for her situation, having not had the balls to leave but not once had anyone verbalized that thought.

He had told her that he was going to be away that weekend, at a traditional gathering, one requiring only the men in the clan, she knew it was a half-truth, that there was another woman. He had been having an affair with the same woman for the last three years, or so she suspected. She was beyond caring. There was no sex between them, there hadn’t been for many years. She couldn’t bring herself to make love to someone who didn’t love her, so she simply told him that she was happy living a false life of the perfect rainbow couple with their three rainbow children.

He had left after the coffee. She cried as she watched the lights of his car drive down the street, not because she wanted him to stay but because she missed the feeling of being part of a unit. She poured herself a large single malt whiskey and then got into the shower. She was going to have to do something about her life.

She soaped her body down, it was still firm enough for her years, she had kept herself in good shape; the gym was a second home since she had most mornings free. The children all led active life styles and she loved nothing more than having lunch and a walk on the beach with her eldest daughter, who at 22, was in her final year at university, but so busy with her own life that they rarely got time together.

Standing under the spray of the shower, she closed her eyes and considered her life. She worked hard and owned a computer consultancy, so she had some money of her own. She hadn’t needed to dip into her reserves and over the years, with careful investment it had grown to a comfortable nest egg which gave her a sense of security. She played hard too, keeping to a strict diet and exercise regime. Juliette was a creature of habit.

She dressed carefully as always. Her clothes were practical and of a good quality, she had 6 pairs of jeans, which she teamed up with well-cut shirts, nothing flashy. In the summer she wore sundresses, not too short, not too tight, she had her modesty to uphold and her place in the community.

As Mrs Ntlantla, the wife of a successful general practitioner, she was expected to have a certain image. At the gym, people waved at her and she knew that she was spoken about in their tight moneyed circles, as the lady who was married to the black doctor. She had endured the stares and whispers of the mothers at the school that her children had attended because their family was perceived as ‘different’ and her children had understood skin colour from a young age. She had always been honest with them and told them that they had been conceived in love and that God had meant for them to be of mixed race so that others could see that black and white spirits were able to live happily together in one little soul.

She had loved watching them grow up in a new South Africa, they had been fortunate enough to have spoken to the first president of the new democratic South Africa, when Mr Mandela had seen them at a function with their children he had stopped to talk to them. She had been overawed by the encounter and held onto what he had said about being proud of them for overcoming all the obstacles for the sake of their love and for the rainbow children that they were rearing. What an incredible moment that had been. It made her sad to think that the idealistic woman that she had been, had died a slow death and been smothered by life.

She allowed herself to reminisce as she dressed and spritzed herself with her favorite perfume and then pulled on her ‘drinking boots’ and spoke sternly to herself, if she was going to enjoy herself at book club that night and she had to put a smile on her face, she knew she needed the sanity of other women to help her through this hurdle in her life; the sisterhood and whiskey.

She loved the fact that they met ten times a year at a different woman’s home. They had decided to have dinner together once a month when they exchanged books and she felt the symbolism every time they sat down to eat and thanked God for the food and friendship.

Even though her views of God seemed rather skewed of late, she was a believer and had made one of her new year’s resolutions; to get to know God better, whoever she discovered Him to be, that and to gather enough courage to divorce Andile finally.

She got into her luxury car and pressed the remote to open the garage and the gates, as the classical music she loved so much filled the space in the car and in her mind, she thought about focusing on the possibilities in her life and not the resentments, it was the only way she would remain sane under the present circumstances.

* Juliette is 53, she is married to Andile who is having an affair with someone of his own culture. She is torn between divorcing him or remaining in the marriage for the sake of money and posterity. They have 3 grown up children. She has short dark hair, is very health conscious, she works out 5 times a week and is very careful about the food she eats, but she drinks whiskey excessively. She is a bit of a hypochondriac and is often in and out of the doctor. She smells of Aromatics.*

Andy

Disappointment

She was in the middle of a rough meeting in the gang riddled suburb of Helenvale in the Northern areas of Port Elizabeth, when the blackberry alarm reminded her of book club that night. She smiled to herself. She valued the time with the other women. She rarely had time for coffee and lunch dates and friends were few if one had no time to reciprocate.

As the representative of the local department of education she was responsible for the management and governance of the three primary schools in the area. She had been horrified at the statistics that had been relayed to the meeting. 56% of the kids in the primary schools were regular drug users and the survey pointed out that they were already starting a life of crime from the day they entered the school gates.

It scared her sometimes when she drove around in suburbs that had the potential to be volatile, but she had put her trust in God and got on with her job.

Andy sat forward as they reported that 90% of the children that had been interviewed had personally been affected by violence, either through robbery, burglary, violent quarrels, intimidation, shooting, stabbing or rape and that 66% of them reportedly had been beaten either at home or at school. The cycle perpetuated itself, violence bred violence and the children who were exposed to it were more prone to drug abuse and a life of crime.

She had spoken to a mother of a 15 year old boy, who feared for the life of her son and other family members, she had told Andy, while they were in line for coffee, that her son had been mixing with the wrong elements and that he had been identified as one of the ringleaders in his school. She had lost count of how many times she had been summoned to the office of the principal and was about to give up on her son, she had resigned herself to the fact that he would either end up in prison or in a grave, and both were expensive businesses. His father had been in and out of jail too, until the rival gang had shot him and she had been forced to rear the children alone, with the help of her aging mother who assisted in supporting them with the grant she received from the government. This, together with the money she claimed from the state for the children, was the sum total of their income. Since her boy had been involved with the gang, there had been more money in the house, but she knew that boys between 15 and 19 were an endangered species in the area.

Andy had listened carefully and had tried to visualize being faced with the problems that the people in Helenvale were challenged with. She had a feeling of guilt and gratitude as she had poured herself coffee and returned to her seat. She had learned that when people had nothing, they had nothing to lose. They would wake up and be grateful to have woken up, not worrying about the next meal, God would provide someone who would take pity on them and share food and their next worry would be a drink or a smoke.

She had driven away from the school knowing that the answer to the crime and feelings of safety were in the hands of the community, that non-government organizations could only provide support and guidance but that the hard work needed to be done by the community. She wondered if the current situation was another lingering piece of the legacy of apartheid. Yet again she thought that she refused to take responsibility for the short-sightedness of the previous government or for the inadequacies of the current one.

Angry at the administration who seemed not to take the futures of the children seriously enough to do anything, she knew that it had taken German investors to see the potential of urban upliftment and to implement the field study. She was also aware of the political situation in the area and how politicians were trying to score points for the upcoming municipal elections. Politics could be dirty and she had been on the periphery for long enough to understand how the game was being played.

Andy loved her job, but could not get her mind around the bureaucracy or the amount of protocol. She didn’t always understand how her colleagues thought and she came to the conclusion that there were some people who just talked for the sake of hearing their own voices, others, who stated the obvious, and her, who agreed or disagreed, depending on the topic or how the meeting at hand would change her plans for the rest of the day. It was crisis management at its best! But besides not understanding how everyone thought, she really loved interacting with people from different cultures, she loved visiting communities and had never felt threatened even in the worst areas of the town, in fact she knew the townships better than the suburbs.

Andy visited schools representing the local education department. In the old days they were referred to as inspectors but that sounded so stuffy and boring and old, as if she should have had a bun in her hair and wear glasses, which she did, a messy blonde bun in the nape of her neck and sunglasses perched on her head and her title was Education Development officer, she often wondered how much development she actually contributed to.

The schools loved entertaining her and for the price of a speech, there was VIP treatment, a show, lunch and an early afternoon with the family, or sherry and front row seats at a gala performance. She even got to hand out prizes and pin badges onto leaders and was rewarded with a big bunch of flowers. Those were the times she really loved her job.

She believed in relationships, not sales, besides she worked for the government, which, if it had been a private company, would make no money and have no clients, but she tried to provide the best service she could, to be the best at what she did. She always left her cellphone on and returned most phone calls, she followed up problems, wrote letters, and helped to appoint teachers.

Andy visited schools in times of trouble and in times of joy, she visited them for no rhyme or reason, but to be in that buzzing atmosphere, filled with tomorrow, alive with possibility. That unique smell a school has, sandy yet new, mouldy yet fresh. When she was in a school, she always felt so alive. The air seemed filled with the energy of the future.

She needed her fix at least once a day, sometimes she even got to two schools a day, on a really busy day she had been known to visit four, with three meetings thrown in, a lunch and an awards ceremony at night. She had been blessed with determination, survival skills, energy and integrity, which she knew needed to be shared with the children of the country; God had told her this and she often wondered why He had chosen HER for this awesomely responsible task.

She drove downheartedly to the district office to sign out for the day and to check emails; there was one from her sister. It seemed fitting to receive a mail from her, it being the 15th anniversary of their mother’s death, yet it was not a comforting, inspiring mail but rather one trying to explain and justify why they had not shared the inheritance that their parents had left behind, with her. She had tears in her eyes as she re-read the message, still claiming that she had no right as she had been absent when both parents had been ill. She had been raising children and running a home, teaching full-time and living 800kms away. She could feel the bitterness in the worlds, the venom spewed out had managed to reach her through the screen of her computer. She was sad but had decided long ago to turn around and walk away from the situation, it had left a gaping wound in her heart but she was wiser and tougher because of it and because of it, she vowed never to let anyone too close to her. She looked at the small photograph she had of her sisters, faded and old, on her wall among the other pictures of her children and of functions that she had attended, she missed them more the longer they remained silent and often she wished that they had been able to set the situation right without compromising their relationship so long ago. She swallowed hard as she clicked the delete button.

Then she shut down her computer and tidied her desk in readiness for the following morning; there would be a chance that she may be hung over and she didn’t like to appear incompetent.

Andy laughed silently to herself as she locked her office, walked down the stairs and got into her car at the almost deserted Education district office, if only her sisters could only see her now as the mature, strong, resourceful woman she had become and she remembered how they had made her feel like the poor relation from PE.

She felt her throat catch with emotion for them, they had never married men, only their business and their money. She had tried to follow their lives for a while but when one was more concerned about the goings on in other people’s lives, one missed out on such a huge chunk of your own and so she had decided to package all the emotions and load them on to an imaginary truck and send them away for good. She had tried to set the record straight once or twice but eventually decided not to waste more time trying to explain to people who had proven that they were committed to misunderstanding. She felt that all the emotions and confrontation were not worth her time and there was simply no time for baggage. The country needed her.

She focused on the present situation in her life, there was a position that she had been shortlisted for in the department where she worked, it was one of the key positions in education and she had been invited for an interview. She was quietly confident that they would appoint her as she knew the other candidates and their strengths. Yet she also understood political appointments and how people had been put into positions where their incompetence shone through, she prayed quickly that she would not be a victim of such, knowing what type of a difference she would be able to make to the PE district, to the education of the children in the city, how she could be the glue that held them together and implement real change to the management of many dysfunctional schools and communities.

She knew that the system in their province was seriously flawed, that there were classes without teachers and that nothing would be done about the plight of many schools. This perpetuated the necessity of forcing parents with limited resources to find the money to bus their children across the city in order for them to benefit from a proper education, she knew that many township schools were crumbling because of the large number of children migrating, it was a vicious cycle that put pressure on an already precarious system and nobody seemed to want to acknowledge the problem. Andy was passionate about education and often lost herself in the excitement of being able to do things for people who would never be able to repay her for the time and advice she had dispensed and in losing herself in doing good things for people, she had moments of finding herself.

She stopped at the closest bottle store for a bottle of red wine to take along and threw in a chocolate as an added measure, her lovely husband was at a function and would only be home later and the children were on a ‘back to school’ orientation camp, she deserved this night out with the sisters who loved her.

More about Andy

*Andy is a 42 year school inspector who visits schools in the city. She lives in an average home in a suburb full of children. She is happy and content, lives with 2 kids and her husband, who is much older than her and semi-retired. They are happy and balanced. She is perhaps a bit too perfect and controlled.

She wears her nails, short and natural. Her signature fragrance is Light Blue by Dolce and Gabbana. She is blonde, gracious, fun, intelligent, practical, and bubbly. People like her.

She is searching for the door to her fulfillment. She knows that her calling is education, specifically for disadvantaged children and that God has placed her in the position she finds herself in, for a reason. But, she is frustrated with the current status of government in the county and is looking towards changing careers in order to make a meaningful contribution to education.

The balls she is juggling are many and she fears dropping one of those balls. Andy is not perfect. No body is.*

Maxy

It’s never about sex…

‘Don’t start something you can’t finish Mr…" She whipped his butt playfully with the towel. He had just given her a mind altering, earth shattering kiss and was about to get up for work.

‘Who says so…’ he growled back at her.

‘Who’s asking??" before the words were out of her mouth Mr X was lying on top of her, his arms, her prison.

‘A part of you is mine, never forget that, a part of you will always belong to me.’ he said with intensity. The way he looked into her eyes, intently, with possession freaked her out just a little bit, since the man had a wife and kids and although they had been lovers for more than 2 years, the chances of him leaving his comfort zone to be with her were minimal, even more diminished over the years… ‘Who was he to be possessive..?’ She thought while he nuzzled her neck.

She smiled sweetly whilst enjoying being in his arms so early in the morning. ‘I love…waking up with you.’ She whispered into his ear. He had never used the words ‘love’ or ‘forever’. He always spoke of the unspoken. He smiled wistfully at her declaration, knowing what she really wanted to say and got up to shower.

She listened to the sounds of living with another person, the adjustment of the shower head, the sound of the toilet seat being put down and she smiled, she was enjoying the moment that she was in. She deserved some happiness again, even if it was in snippets whenever he was available. She sometimes thought that she should feel guiltier about the relationship. But he had wormed his way into her life and her bed and before she had been able to stop anything, they had fallen in love. She knew it. He knew it. But it was unspoken.

She lay in bed reading the newspaper. He had told his wife that he was away in business and they had hibernated the previous evening. She had ordered a pizza from downstairs and they drank red wine and spoke about their kids and the hectic pace of life. She had held her breath; they had never talked about life and children. That conversation was not meant to come into their relationship, those were part of the rules they had made long ago! She asked no questions about his other life, and only volunteered the information she wanted to share about hers.

He had fucked her with such intensity the previous night that she felt bruised, inside and out. There were scratch marks on her thigh and she saw pin pricks of blood on the sheet next to her, a sure sign of scratches on her back. She loved that he needed to get under her skin in a literal way, none of the other men she had been with had needed to do that. It made her feel possessed. Over the past 3 months he had started becoming jealous of her and questioned her every move when they were apart. He told her that he could not stomach the thought of someone else being with her, he had a jealous streak, this man who she had fallen in love with.

He got out of the shower and wanted her to get straight in but she would not be moved, as she sat in bed, naked, drinking coffee, reading the newspaper, she wondered why on earth he would think she intended getting up?

‘My day only starts at 10 this morning,’ she shouted back at the bathroom. ‘It’s,’ she stretched to see the time, ‘7.25.’ The sun had already illuminated the room.

‘S’ they called each other by initial, he was S, she was M. S and M. ‘Do you mind if I open the door? That purple plant outside is flowering and it smells wonderful, I just want to let the smell in.’ She consciously stopped and thought to herself that it felt like domesticity at its best, that she should not feel obliged to ask him if she could open the door, but that it felt right and good. She shook her head and repeated her mantra… ‘He has a wife… he has a wife… he has a wife…’ it helped...a bit!

He popped his head around the wall, dressed in nothing but a towel, the hair on his chest tapered downwards. He was so damn sexy! As he walked over to the bed the towel came off and there he stood in front of her, naked, at 7.30am on a Wednesday morning, a working Wednesday morning.

She liked his sense of adventure but there was a part of his character that was reckless and she knew that he was driven by a force of will.

She looked at him and caught him looking down at the sheet barely covering her breasts, the cool air had made the nipples stand proudly erect, he had a quizzical look in his eyes, and a small mischievous smile toyed with his mouth. ‘You said ten ‘o clock…?’

His mouth moved slowly towards hers. So slowly, that she was forced to reach up and guide it down for the last 5 centimeters. There was, as always, faint resistance from both of them, as if both their bodies knew that what they were doing was wrong, and at the last moment of preserving any dignity, the body instinctively resisted the inevitable.

Their lips touched, softly, building up to an orgy of lips and teeth and tongues, sucking and biting playfully and lustfully, becoming serious. A feeling of needing to be inside this man’s head, inside his body, him inside her head, inside her body, the feeling was both exhilarating and frightening.

Her phone alarm went off, dissolving the moment and giving them a reality check, ‘I have book club tonight at June’s house.’ She reminded him as he kissed her goodbye.

‘And I have a parents meeting. I will see you when I see you.’ He always left her with that phrase, ‘I will see you when I see you.’

*Maxy is a practical, positive, esoteric being. She is an inherent ‘hippie,’ crystals, tie dye and free love, a child of the universe. She is 43 going on 23. She has been married twice and is great friends with her ex-husband and his new wife. Sadly, she lost the man she was married to and loved and bought a restaurant with the inheritance. She has 2 kids, 1 at boarding school and 1 at university, no family and a free and easy life style.

Maxy has bright orange toes! She wears Jean Paul Gaultier Classic perfume. She is intelligent, practical, a bit reckless and completely hedonistic! She is blonde and sexy.

She is essentially happy, but she is feeling the need to belong enough to someone to want to sleep next to them and she is ready to share her life with someone again.

She has met a man and fallen in love with him without intending to and although she realizes that she is on shaky ground because he is married to someone else, she is unable to walk away from the relationship. Her sense of goodness and conscience is well developed enough for her to wrestle with herself and God about her adulterous behavior.*

Sabrina

The men we choose!

Her back ached from being in the car all day, the drive through the Transkei hills was long and slow,