On this bitterly cold Christmas eve, in the office of his business, his clerk Miss Bobbi Crotchwet was reminding him forcibly that he was rather alone in his lack of interest."Oh, I can't wait to get finished, sir. I'm going to go out and snare some handsome young thing for me and the missus to screw senseless 'til boxing day. Pick up some burly dock worker to pound our pusses til we can't walk, or maybe some naive young gent from the clerical collage to tie up and... educate."Chyooge sighed and looked up at her. She was a very pale woman, somewhere in her early thirties, with a cloud of dishevelled black hair and large, intense eyes that shone out at the world from within dark pits of Kohl and mascara. Her full plump lips seemed locked in a permanent saucy pout, and despite her thin frame, she bore substantial bosoms, which bulged out from the top of her lacy black corset.Yes, she seemed to be pretty much the epitome of the worlds sorry sexual obsessions. She showed little devotion. And his name was John, not James. You're a better liar than Jerome." Marvelous," Nora said, clapping her hands softly with applause. "We could have used Katy on our last assignment, Jerome." Yeah." The skeptic wasn't happy. He'd need to adjust his belief systems, which would be difficult because they were sculpted from experience not fashioned by his intellect. "Okay. I know a makeup artist. Actually, he bills himself as a master of disguise, and he hires out occasionally. I'll contact him this afternoon."I was a blonde again, but a hairpiece caused my blondness, not hair dye. I also looked five-years older than my seventeen years and about five-months pregnant. Charlie Twigs, the master of disguise, figured a pregnant secretary would engender sympathy from the nannies and nurses I'd be meeting.Twigs was one of life's real characters. Bald except for an unruly fringe of gray hair around his ears, he looked like Dopey, the dwarf in Sleeping Beauty, but his mind was as crisp as a fresh.
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