Agatha was wondering what was the point of wearing secret sexy Christmas underwear if Diarmuid was going to stand beside her all the time while she was selecting it.
One thing was sure, she would not repeat last year’s mistake. She was definitely going for virginal white this year. Last Christmas’ flesh colour number failed to bring Diarmuid to that point of no return when the animal instinct takes over and caution is thrown to the wind and one no longer cares about the prospect of pine needles or shards from broken baubles stuck in one’s arse.
She would this year manage to reignite the throes of passions.