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''That's okay. I think I'd rather have been in the Caribbean if I'd had a choice. Nice threads, by the way. How much they knock you back?" It's Armani.' They were sitting next to the jukebox, so Matt had to raise his voice. 'I brought it when I qualified and it's the best suit I own. So if you spill anything on it, you'll get the dry-cleaning bill." He pointed at his friend."Yeah. But how much?" Bobby persisted."Two and half." Two hundred and fifty quid? I thought you were fucking loaded." Matt instantly recognised John Nettles. "Fucking hell, even I've got a suit that cost that fucking much." No," said Matt, trying to stay calm. "Two and a half thousand. It was handmade from a blend of Italian wools. This shirt was more expensive than your suit, and the shoes... ''Ohh, ' Nettles interjected. 'Hark at Mr. Ar-fucking-mani and his two hundred and fifty quid shirt. Aren't we the fucking mutt's fucking nuts?''Let's just forget it, shall we?' said Bobby. 'We're supposed to be having. Why don’t you come in, so we can get started.” I step into a small outer office with a desk and several file cabinets behind it. Sitting at the desk is a gentleman, I guess in his mid-forties. He stands up, walks around the desk and introduces himself, "Hello, I am John and you must be our 2:30 appointment." John is dressed very professionally in light tan slacks and a dark brown shirt. He looks me straight in the eye and mentions, “I have some work to do while Jennifer takes down your information and what type of photographs you would like to have taken.” With that said he turns around and begins to leave. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I will be only a few minutes and we can then get started.” Jennifer walks around the desk and slowly sits as she looks me straight in the eyes and then her eyes begin to move down my body. Her tip of her tongue peeks out from her lips and erotically moves from one side to the other. Looking up into my eyes again her lips form a smile or.
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