RANSVESTIA

There was a considerable silence, which was broken in time by Angie. "We'll have to go through a divorce, Robert. After all, people think we're married..."

"It isn't necessary," Cort had returned to his sofa seat. "We can carry on as before." He looked at her evenly, all emotion drained from his face. "I'll still look out for Cameron and Margot as if they were my children."

Their conversation was interrupted by a persistent ringing of the front doorbell, which Robert Cort went to answer. He returned to find Jean and Angie locked in a tight embrace, both crying and kissing at the same time.

"It's the media!" Cort snapped savagely. "They've heard that Angie Saunders is here and they've come to see you and to take pictures!"

"Oh!" Angie kept one arm about Jean, and dabbed at her eyes. "I suppose I'll have to go and meet them."

"Not like that!" Cort was horrified. "You'll have to change into something more glamorous, and you need more makeup."

Angie shook her head. "But I can't..." she began.

Jean interrupted. "I'll come and help you," she said. "You have to show them what they really come to see." She stood beside her husband, comparing their slim, girlish figures, "Just think,” she said wryly. "You're only bigger than me in one place and it's the only place that counts."

"Here she is, my wife," said Robert Cort, standing aside so that Angie could be seen by all of the reporters.

"Wow!" gulped one of the men, as flashbulbs popped. Angie smiled, fluttered her false eyelashes and moistened her already glossed over lips. Her red, silk dress, hugging her figure tightly, stopped just above her knee, so that when she sat on the sofa, the men were able to get a glimpse of her well-formed thighs.

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