Free I'm No Angel by Patti Berg

went. Mitzi might be a kook but she’s more than willing to donate whatever I suggest to my favorite charity, she pays her bills on time, and she has an Oliver emergency at least once a week and she insists that I’m the only one she trusts to check into her personal matters.”
    With the bodice of the ugly pink gown dangling around her waist, Angel adjusted her flesh-colored satin and lace push-up bra as she headed for the table laden with goodies. She poured a speck of champagne into a glass and took a sip, something she rarely did before four P.M .
    â€œIf it weren’t for Mitzi and some of the other ladies in town who know I handle their domestic matters with the utmost discretion,” Angel went on, “I wouldn’t be able to buy a Morganna gown and Manolo Blahniks for the gala or be able to drive a Jag, and I wouldn’t have as much time for the other things I need to take care of, like throwing a yearly charity gala.”
    â€œYou’re digressing, Angel. You were very discreetly telling me about Oliver’s perverse fornication , which is far more interesting than your budget or your time management. So…did you find any signs?”
    â€œI’ve already said far too much.” Angel stepped out of the gown and, standing in only her matching lace bikini and bra, took another sip of champagne.
    â€œYou’ve said just enough to pique my curiosity,” Emma said, twirling the end of her ponytail. “I love tales of perversity. So spill.”
    She shouldn’t tell a soul, but Emma was the height of discretion and Angel just had to sharesome of the zany stories about the things she’d done for many of the socialites in Palm Beach.
    â€œWell,” Angel said, “I found a tube of lavender lipstick under the front seat and, don’t you dare repeat this to a soul, but Mitzi gasped with utter shock when she saw the lipstick and noticed that it was, God forbid, one of those drugstore varieties.”
    Emma clapped a hand to her chest and giggled. “Oh, my heavens! How could anybody be so unrefined?”
    â€œI was wondering the same thing myself. Of course, I forgot all about the lavender lipstick when I found fuzzy purple handcuffs, a satin blindfold in the same shade of purple, and, of course, a handy-dandy whip.”
    Emma’s nose wrinkled. “You didn’t touch any of that stuff with your bare hands, did you?”
    â€œOf course not.”
    â€œSo what did you tell Mitzi?”
    â€œI didn’t have to tell her a thing. She was peeking over my shoulder as I was going through the car with gloved hands, and when she saw all the bondage equipment her face turned redder than my Jag and she ever so discreetly told me that she’d been after Oliver for years to do something to spice up their behind-closed-doors life, and she’d completely forgotten that he’d taken her out in the Bentley and parked in a lonely swamp, someplace, Mitzi said, where frogs croaked and moss dripped from trees and mosquitoes the size of Cora Lee Noble’s five-hundred-and-sixty-three-thousand-dollar engagement ring kept crashing into the windows. Then he plied herwith champagne and, once she was drunker than a skunk, bound her up, stripped her naked—”
    â€œPlease. Stop.” Emma threw up her hands. “I can’t possibly listen to any more of this.”
    â€œWell, let me tell you, I didn’t want to listen to any more of it, either, but I heard every sordid little detail, and then”—Angel grinned—“I was given quite a lovely check for my services and my discretion. So you can’t repeat any of this to a soul.”
    â€œYou know I only talk about sex with you.”
    â€œAnd speaking of sordid stuff,” Angel said, then took a quick sip of champagne, “Frederike LeVien’s butler called to tell me he thinks the Countess is having an affair with a much younger man, someone he’s sure