" The voice sounded relieved. It was Frances. Why couldn't she have seen Mr Butcher and found out what he wanted?"Five minutes, okay?" Okay. Enjoy you...self!" The door closed with a faint squeak. Little bitch!Venetia fumbled away with the bra, finally getting it to stay together with three safety pins from her purse. She had to climb back into the bra, as it was now permanently clasped, and it creaked dangerously as she pulled the straps over her shoulders then made herself as small as she could. Is there room for accusations here? Certainly, what Susan did crosses overinto immoral territory? Then again, it just went on so naturally. As they say,one thing leads to another. And another. And another. How many drinks were there in the end? Susan willnot be able to tell. Not tomorrow, not ever. Either way, there will be moreserious matters to occupy her mind. The things kept leading one to anotherwith seamless ease worthy of a good pulp novel. The conversation at the table gradually found. More

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