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As many people of wealth do, Mrs. Lucinda Grey supported a number of charities. Every year she hosted a ball with all the money going to several orphan homes in the Chicago area. Given her wealth and prestige, anyone who was anyone marked it on their calendar. Anyone who was anyone wouldn’t miss it.

When people entered, at the top of the stairs, a man with a megaphone announced each couple, “Mr. and Mrs. Royal Jobes.” Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Kowalski.” And on and on.

At the bottom of the stairs stood Mrs. Grey, fifty-five-year-old hostess of this gala. “Welcome, thank you so much for coming. Oh, and thank you for your generous gift.” She either kissed each guest on the cheek or shook hands, depending on how well she knew them.

The gift, usually a check or an envelope with cash, she handed to her ‘date.’ That would be young Zachary. He was now twenty-two, and was still her personal cunny pleaser.

That very morning, Mrs. Grey was up early. “Zachary, I’m so nervous about tonight. Help me relax.” She took off her dressing gown and lay back on the edge of her bed.

She didn’t have to make an excuse. This was almost a daily ritual. Zachary got on his knees, on the floor. And his tongue started on her cunny. She loved the softness of his tongue on her cunny hole. “it’s time, Zachary. Do my happy button.”

A few minutes later, she started to moan loudly. Her help could hear; they heard her almost every day. They knew. Soon, Mrs. Grey was thrashing about on the bed.

Zachary let her rest; softly licking her cunny from down near her asshole to that happy button and back. “Mrs. Grey, your cunny is more delicious than yesterday.”

She caught her breath and a few minutes later, “Zachary, my happy button is ready for more. You know what Mrs. Grey’s cunny needs.”

This would go on for almost an hour.

The morning of the charity ball, Zachary had massaged her happy button four times. Mrs. Grey was relaxed as she prepared for the big night.

One of the last to arrive was Mrs. Katherine McGuire Norton. “Katherine, what are you doing here? You didn’t bring Mr. Bell.” She threw that out as if it was an insult.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you. Lucinda, this is for charity. I know we're not friends, but I wanted to support the good work you do. Have Mrs. Allsop and Mrs. Conover arrived?”

“I saw them, but with the hundreds of people here, you may not find them.” She looked across the crowded ballroom.

“Speaking of Mrs. Allsop and Mrs. Conover, have you seen their grandchildren yet?”

Mrs. Grey cringed. This was not a subject usually brought up in polite company. “No, no I haven’t.”

Kate Norton opened her bag and brought out the binder. This is Mabel’s grand-daughter, and that’s her son-in-law, Gerald Freeman. Don’t they make a lovely family?” And this is Hermione Allsop’s daughter, Amy, and her son, James. She got divorced, you know? I can’t imagine why, can you?”

The man at the top of the stairs called out, “Mr. and Mrs. Robinson Powell.” The couple started down the stairs. Mrs. Grey winced when she saw them. If she could have shrunk into the carpeting. There was her daughter, Mallory, arm-in-arm with Robinson Powell.

If that wasn’t enough. The fashion and decorum of the time called for pregnant women to wear clothing which hid their expanding belly. And when they got too big, to stay indoors.

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