I noted the perfect curve of the drink's surface extending above the rim, held by surface tension. A martini is a perfect drink... I was to be honored...this evening after a perfectly good business year by my company... my perfect wife Valerie sat at my side. Indeed she did look perfect. Her black hair shone, her liquid brown eyes flashed; she wore a perfect dress, gathered at the neck, but sheer enough that a hint of her small, perfect breasts, sans bra, were almost visible. In anticipation of. "I don't know," she replied with a lot of worry in her voice. Which inturn scared the shit out of me.Like with Monique, the ring started to rise. My smart black shoes turnedinto pink heeled pumps. On top of that, I could feel my feet shrinking.My trousers turned to pink satin and I could feel the anatomy of my legschanging. This was when everything went dark to the sound of Monique'sscreams."Beth? Beth." It was Monique's dad."Should I phone an ambulance?" I heard her Mam ask."No I think she's. More

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