“Tell him to f**k off?”
Martha reached across the table and picked up a thousand francs. “Touch up money,” she suggested.
Initially annoyed, Fred quickly warmed to the idea. “Are you suggesting what I think you are young lady?”
“Oh no you don’t,” chimed Anna. “No. No that is plain wrong.”
“If they can’t resist temptation and can’t keep their hands to their selves then it’s only fair they pay for the privilege,” Martha told them.
“No,” persisted Anna. “It’s wrong. Why should you?”
“Money, Anna. I happily stroll the catwalks with intimate bits of me flashed to all and sundry. What’s it matter if I offer another service of titillation. Dress to kill and let them have a slight contact. Nothing outlandish. Nothing over the top. Like the Archduke back there. A smack on the bum perhaps. Imp
