Review: Grace

General Details

This section is typically devoted to a summary of the 2-call system, the knock on the door, the welcoming hug, and perhaps the glimpse of naughty attire - as a teasing lead-in to the VIP juicy details. In the present review, this section is especially needed, because the way I met the inventive Grace was a unique adventure inspired by her flair for fun as well as by her smarts for safety.

I had seen references to Grace on TER Boston, but brainlessly skipped over them when I found her brief no-photos webpage. For lack of Faith I failed for months to embrace Grace.

One recent day, LennyTheLump posted to TER Boston after a visit with Grace. He used the word *clutter* in describing Grace's apartment. Grace replied back with a wit, strength, light touch and economy which really got my attention. Then a posse of Grace's fans joined the thread in her spirited defense. The so called clutter was merely a row of wine bottles, kept for sentimental value as reminders of rooftop moments. I immediately read Grace's TER reviews and was captivated. Thank you Lenny!

I emailed Grace. She replied quickly, off the cuff, friendly, yet alert to learn who was behind my email mask. After a few lively exchanges, and not one canned response or cliché on her part, I passed phase #1 of Grace's litmus test - the literacy and personality part.

We set up a meeting. Grace gave me her street address (but not her apartment), her cell phone number, and her cautious protocol: I was to phone her when I arrived, bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in hand, present myself at the main entrance (locked glass door for visual inspection by Grace. and probably by the building security camera), and (if I passed phase #2) follow her to her rooftop to sit, sip, chat and get acquainted (litmus phase #3 - her soul chemistry lab).

From my car, parked on the street near Grace's apartment building, I phoned Grace. She answered promptly and said to meet her at the entrance. Soon, I was at the glass door with my Cabernet. Grace, attractive, young, tall (but not too tall), animated, smiling, appeared on the other side of the glass, clutching a corkscrew and two goblets in one long-fingered hand (a hand perfect for clutching objects deftly) and opening wide the door with her other hand.

Wonderfully, there was no initial hug, just a touch of a kiss, because our hands were full and I was busy following two long, flashing, mini-skirted legs up several flights of stairs, until we emerged onto a rooftop drenched in sunshine and a stunning, sweeping view of Boston. Those bare thighs, brightly moving in the afternoon light, led us to two chairs.