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“I still don’t believe you,” Emily pinched him hard beneath the sheets and he jumped. “Okay, okay, I believe you.” xxx Jack had been waiting for Emily. Each night in the bars he had sung, “Stranded in St Louis, Baby’s down in New Orleans,” And this was not factually true. He had never left England. But it was soulfully true, and it hurt. He had always waited for Emily. On the trains home he had watched the green fields race by, and he had waited for her. When he was young and alone, he had waited for her. When he had sat on the steps alone in the night he had waited for her. Before a word had been spoken, before a connection had been made, before he could be certain of her existence, he had waited for her. In the cafes talking with friends over coffee. In the beds of other girls. In the dark hours when no one could get through. In the halls. In the rooms rented in the city. In the bars where he played through the night, he had waited for her. And they had met at the most. So he couldn't ask her to cancel her party because he had a month's worth of work to do in one weekend. It was his own fault.John's fingers began to graze the keyboard just as he heard a glass shatter. He emerged from his study and went into the kitchen."Sorry, Mr. Langham, I'm so clumsy," one of his daughter's friends said as she stood over the broken glass."It's okay, Justine. You can go back upstairs; I'll clean this up," John sighed as he searched for the broom.The hyper girl dashed from the kitchen just as another one entered. "Hi, Mr. Langham."John peered over his shoulder to see the smiling face of an unfamiliar face. He was so distracted by her beauty that he almost dropped the broom. Her slender and curvaceous frame leaned against the granite top island. His eyes were lost at sea in her bluish-green eyes beneath her perfectly arched eyebrows. She wore her wavy blond hair down to her perky c-cups. She ran her manicured fingers through her hair and pushed it out of her.
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