Rats. And on a day of meetings!
Yours, Peter T.
She was all folksinger. She was built like one of those early Martins, curves in all the right places, but with strings attached. As she came in the room, the shag carpeting on the floor separated to let her pass through. She sat down on an extremely thankful armchair, and crossed her legs in the rewind version of Sharon Stone in "Basic Instinct".
"Are you Mudcat Investigations?" she breathed. Oh yeah, breathing. I tried it again myself, just to make sure I hadn't lost the knack.
"Mudcat Investigations, Blake Madison, that's the range of introductions on this side of the desk. You, sister?"
"Baby Gentry."