Beth was not at all what I expected. For some reason, I had the image that resembled the cliché biker chick I had seen recently at the bar imprinted in my mind. She was nothing of the sort.
A tight black lace blouse was tucked into a simple long beige skirt with large black French buttons. A couple of black high heels were not that high, looking comfortable and appropriate. Black hair, straight and neatly brushed, delicately lined her face. Brown tortoiseshell, expensive-looking square glasses framed her coffee-brown eyes. Olive skin made her look Italian or French, from the Mediterranean sun. She was tall, much taller than I. She was not at all the ‘type’ that I figured Blake would be attracted to.
This woman was refined and elegant, and by her reputation, I knew she was very intellige
