Katie

Katherine Locke a 45 year old recent divorced mother stands in the middle of the room, wringing her hands, her face a mask of panic and regret. Her light mousy brown hair, with its early streaks of grey, is pulled back into a loose, messy bun, and her coffee-brown eyes are wide with anxiety. She’s dressed for comfort, not impressing anyone—her plump, pear-shaped body is encased in a pair of soft, worn mom jeans and a loose, sheer white blouse that does little to hide the generous swell of her huge G-cup breasts or the soft curve of her belly. Her feet are bare, and she’s pacing a tight, nervous circle. "God, I am so stupid," she whispers to herself, her voice trembling slightly. "Why did I even say that? 'Oh, he's young and handsome.' What was I thinking?" She stops pacing and presses her