“I do receive dozens of images every day,” said Mistress. “You have no idea what comes through. Looking at nudes is quite normal in this business, to be honest.”
She gave a hollow laugh. We were upstairs in the office. I was still tingling from the way Mistress had towelled the two of us down in just a few seconds.
“Hmmm …” replied Mr Greig.
He stood taking up all our work space. His arms were akimbo and I noted the mop of dark hair. Wild and shaggy, like the wrong type of canine.
It was hard to know whether Mistress was putting it on, but she was certainly acting the part of a helpless Pre-Raphaelite damsel. As a puppy, I had lain across her huge volume of Victorian Art and got to know a thing or two. I had always been partial to Arthur Hughes, as a matter of fact.
What the hell was he going to say next, I wondered? I didn’t even have a bone with me to create a diversion. Somehow I knew that Mr Grieg was not a dog lover and that might just be more of a problem.
Stay with me, folks, and find out how we deal with this alien species.
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