His eyes travelled the length of her leg and his mind filled in the blanks at the top. He found his imagination sorely lacking when, ten minutes later... she was sat on the edge of his desk, her panties discarded and her dress bunched around her waist as his tongue slowly travelled the length of her smooth, waxed slit. Now, as she writhed on the desk, her manicured nails scratching into the wood as his tongue performed wonders that her late husband never could, he knew he’d been right not taking. "Really?" She smiled. "I have a nice ass." Yes you do," he said. He almost put his hand over his mouth. Where had that come from? He didn't talk to women that way ... did he?"Well thank you!" she said, her voice rising."Wait a minute," he said, holding his hand up. "That didn't make you mad, did it?" Nope." Why not?" He frowned. "I don't have any specific memories of it, but I know you're not supposed to talk to women like that." Well, if it hadn't been the right man, I might have gotten. She’s asked us to pitch.’ ‘What’s the product?’ ‘Bras with colored metallic inserts.’ Tom rolled about laughing. ‘Mr Biscoe!’ ‘Call me Tom. God you women are so funny but I quickly apologize for saying that. It’s what is called not being PC isn’t it?’ ‘Very much so.’ ‘Give me her letter and pass me that felt pen.’ Tom scrawled over the letter, ‘Come in here carrying one of those cute bras and I’ll show you what to do to sell millions. XXX Tom’. ‘Here you go Melissa, pop it into the mail and sit. The cabbie suddenly pulled over, stopped in the breakdown lane of the highway. Big beeping trucks whizzed by us. A scarlet Lamborghini careened inches away, at breakneck speed.I handed the driver my phone. After a shouting match with my hotel’s front desk, he finally figured out the way... We chugged into the city, into the Bund area, passed by the waterfront’s colonial architecture and nearby glittering glass towers, sprawling malls and department stores selling luxury brands.Finally arriving.