Les Whitney

I had met Gem during a dinner party at my father's house. He was rather nice and very good looking. His hair was black, he wore black glasses with a slightly square, slightly curved rim, that sort of resembled the ones that sponge bob wears. He was in faded blue jeans with small lines of denim sewn in horizontal pattern on the bottom that gave the pants a style statement. He carried himself in a manner of which any young, rebellious lady would fall embarrassingly for in front of her family and friends. I was a lady in waiting for his mistress to get away, not that I had a choice. I didn't ask for Gem to come into my life. I was, in such a situation that I had never imagined any day of my life would be as complex to figure my way out of. This was merely fate or a set up.