Vanderlyn Hamilton Davis

The Little Black Book

As Cashmere picked up the small package, she looked around and wondered who could have left it at the entrance of her townhouse. Tucking it under her arm, she unlocked the door, entered and placed it with the daily mail and her keys on the kitchen counter. Removing her layered clothing on the way to her bedroom, she wanted a hot shower to wash away the tension of the day from her body and mind after working eight hours as a claims adjuster for CitiData. Toweled-dried and feeling somewhat refreshed, she wrapped her body in a soft robe, then poured herself a glass of wine and sat on one of the cushioned bar stools at the counter.