“And this is Katrina – excuse me, Kat.”“Charmed, I’m sure.” Ella extended her hand to Kat, who took it in her own and impulsively kissed i....“The pleasure is all mine,” answered Kat. She thought that she had never seen such an exquisite creature in all her life. She was too young to remember Ella’s career, but she could see that the older woman was proportioned like a model, tall and thin with small but flawlessly formed breasts. Kat licked her lips, hoping that she and Ella would get to know. She shrugged off her heavy tan coat, with a fox-fur collar, and sat on a seat facing forward. She had ridden the train for six months, since she and her husband – Michael DiFalcone, an associate professor at Yale Medical school – traded a Queens apartment for a beachfront suburban condo. “It’s so cold for November,” thought Karen as she fanned her black hair against the seat’s purplish vinyl. “The heat won’t get cranked until Bridgeport.” She closed her eyes. Twenty people were scattered. More

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