Now, as he rode the elevator to the lobby of his hotel in the World Trade Center, his pulse was racing from the intoxicating scent of his perfume, and...from the feeling of nylon stockings on his freshly shaved legs. Pat emerged from the elevator and demurely wove his way past the crowd of impatient guests waiting to enter it. As always, he was relieved to experience no stares or double-takes as he made his way through the lobby, the clicking of his heels on the marble floor secretly thrilling. Of course, she would pretend they had worn her to a frazzle, but that was just to keep them confidant of their manly superiority.The workhouse girls had scurried back to their nests lest they be cut from the flock and given a taste of the “Cat” with a half dozen of the foreman’s sturdy arm.Meg was happy that she had never considered for a single moment the wisdom of falling into that debtor’s routine and had taken to the roads in pursuit of her fortune instead. The excitement of pretending to. More

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