I HAD A JACKHAMMER
I HAD A JACK-HAMMER I stood in front of the mirror and I had to admit I didn’t look too bad for a forty-four year old woman. My frizzy black hair hung just below my shoulders and I wore a simple gold chain around my neck, shiny against my skin and in stark contrast with my dark eyes. The V-neck of my silky red dress pointed to the cleavage between my breasts, which aren’t huge but large enough to get a look or two, and the only makeup I wore was a bit of lipstick to match the dress. I’d kept myself in good shape the last few years since my divorce and people often think I’m eight or ten years younger. I’m about five-seven, thin with a nice rump to go along with my …