<div class="floatleft">(http://www1.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Kirsten+Vangsness+9th+Annual+GLSEN+Respect+qMvnCXXAfDOl.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Maggie Holloway<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Her  bedroom<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Hitomi<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Pancakes, bacon, butter and that sweet sticky stuff from up North just across the border<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Nothing at first, then Red silk kimono (http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/73/fb/dd/73fbdd6ffe9c0715870d8c75110aee0a.jpg) and slippers (http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/31w7YW9wsrL.jpg)<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Maggie stood and stretched, turning sideways to present her profile to the young woman in her bed. Her fuller figure was not the most alluring in the world, but this morning Maggie felt sexy and more attractive than she had in ages.<em>Maybe I still got it after all!</em>She told herself as she ran her hands down over her<em>voluptuous</em>curves. That was a great word; Voluptuous.<br/><br/>Maggie giggled and grinned, adopting a more usual stance"Sweetie, it has been such a long time since I got to cook breakfast for someone else! Please, stay for breakfast? Sure, if you want to help clean up. Indigo Way Authority will be sending a crew around later today to do the real clean up, but a little help getting things in order for them and making sure they don't run off with anything they shouldn't would be greatly appreciated"<br/><br/>The building manager opened her closet and pulled out a red silk robe that she usually saved for special occasions, like this one. Her slippers were the same colour, quite randomly. There was another robe there, made of white terry towelling. "You can put this on if you want?" she offered, her tone of voice clearly implying she would rather Hitomi stay naked right now. Maggie made her way to the bathroom, took care of a few essential needs and then headed for the kitchen.<br/><br/>Soon enough the apartment was filled with the irresistible odour of frying bacon, Maggie was humming a cheerful little tune she'd heard on the radio the other day, as she beat milk flour and eggs together to make batter - she despised pancake mix - while the coffee machine chuckled away to itself. The maple Syrup was still in date, by a few months, which was a relief, and she had plenty of butter. She pulled a couple of clean plates and forks from the cupboard and set them on the table, and began spooning the batter onto the griddle.<br/><br/>"Come get it, girl", she called out as she plated up the food.