She emerges from a bathroom in a swirl of steam, the cool air of the room, a touching refreshment on her skin. Her hair is damp and clings to her shoulders as she leans down to smooth lotion over her legs. She walks over to her bed and takes her silk stockings, slipping them effortlessly up her legs. Stepping into her black dress, her skin feels like satin beneath the fabric. Her hair has dried and she fastens it loosely with a tortoiseshell clip at the back of her head. Facing the mirror she straightens her dress, smoothing over the material whilst looking herself up and down. She takes her perfume and dabs it slowly on her wrists, then transferring it to her neck, patting it ever so lightly with the tips of her fingers. The doorbell rings and she pauses. He is here.