Conference finally over, I'm in the lounge enjoying an old whiskey. Back against the bar, I watch Mr. Sharp Suit preach the Gospel of Me to circled sycophants.

She drapes herself on the stool beside me.

"You! Double G, single T," she commands, wagging a perfect red talon at the barman.

Drink tasted, she returns my look with interest, just as ass-licking laughter erupts.

"Such a fucking buffoon," she groans.

"Boss or husband?"

"Latter, more's the pity."

I stand and palm her breast, feeling its nipple reaching out hard.

"My suite. Rescue the evening for us both. He'll never notice."