Ailsa pocketed the card – or would have done had she been paying attention and had not, instead, just dropped it to the floor blindly – and wondered when she had ever made such a fortuitous meeting. Well, Ewart, of course, but Ester seemed handpicked for her very purposes. Beautiful and willing to take her clothes off for money: it was a type Ailsa had doubted she would ever find though, admittedly, the notion of having someone model for her had barely occurred to her until about half an hour ago.

“That’s perfect, I’m always coming somewhere or other so it’ll be a pleasure. Until then my dear!”

And Ailsa departed with a spring in her steps, plans in her mind, an unexpected residue of gin on her fingers and, sadly, no calling card in her pocket.

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oh MJ mama likes ;)