kids.
Tim and Mimi Clydesdale owned a vast colonial villa in Chung Hom Kok. When Barbara and Mal came to visit, Barbara took one look at the closets and said, “My God, you could sit twenty down to lunch in here.”
Tim was a corporate lawyer who earned shed loads. Mimi was pretty, without an emotion to speak of and so thin that she practically disappeared when she turned sideways. She did squat all day apart from going out to lunch with her expatriate girlfriends and moving salad around her plate. In the afternoons she might partake of a little light antiquing. She spent practically no time with her children. The only things this woman had ever nursed was a vodka glass and her American Express platinum card.
Mimi may have been a rubbish mother, but she was a generous employer. Every Christmas she bought Cyn an expensive gift. One year it was a cashmere twin set.
“I put it on straightaway to please her,” Cyn told the group. “She stood there scrutinizing me and said, ‘Cyn, that looks just perfect on you.’ ” She could imitate Mimi’s cold, haughty voice perfectly. “ ‘But, you know, I’m just not sure about your breasts.’ Anyway, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I asked her what was wrong with my breasts and she said: ‘Well, let’s put it this way. You might want to rethink your choice of bra.’ ”
“So,” Veronica said gently. “What did you say to her?”
Cyn could feel her eyes starting to water. “Nothing. I said nothing. My mind just went blank. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through me, but I didn’t dare be rude in case she sacked me. That would have meant abandoning those poor children. I couldn’t have done that. Anyway, I realized that Mimi was only jealous because she had two fried eggs on her chest instead of real breasts.”
“I sense that you are really getting in touch with your anger,” Veronica said approvingly.
“Too right I am. I mean, I have really nice breasts.” By now she was getting quite carried away. “They’re biggish, but they’re really firm and perky. They’re not remotely saggy. To hear Mimi go on, you’d have thought I was suckling sextuplets. All the men I’ve slept with have been extremely complimentary about them. You should see me in a Wonderbra.” She failed to notice that Ken was shifting uncomfortably in his seat and practically drooling. “Although I say it myself,” she went on, “I have a rather magnificent cleavage.”
By now she was vaguely aware that she had lost the attention of the group. Her voice trailed off.
“Hello,” the voice behind her said. “Sorry I’m late. I’m Joe.”
Cyn swung round in her seat to face the door. Not Jo as in a woman, but Joe as in a man. An exceedingly cute and sexy man, who now knew all about her firm, perky, not remotely saggy tits and magnificent cleavage.
For the second time that night, Cyn was crippled with embarrassment. One at a time, everybody stood up to shake Joe’s hand. “I am so sorry about what happened just then,” she said to him when her turn came. “I’m not usually like that. I mean, I’m not usually so in-your-face with my breasts . . .”
“That’s OK, I understand.” He was giving her the most delicious smile. “But do you think that maybe I could have my hand back now?”
“Oh, God. Yes.” She released his hand from her grip and watched him flex his fingers as if he was trying to get the blood flowing again.
He took his seat between Jenny and Veronica. “Welcome to our little group,” Clementine trilled, raking her fingers through her hair. Judging by his tight-lipped expression, Ken was watching Clementine’s trilling and raking with mounting jealousy. “So, Joe, what do you do for a living?”
He said was a film and documentaries editor.
“Wow, that sounds so creative and glamorous,” Clementine simpered.
“Not really,” Joe said. “I just sit in front of a computer screen all day, cutting film, trying to make it tell a
Tim and Mimi Clydesdale owned a vast colonial villa in Chung Hom Kok. When Barbara and Mal came to visit, Barbara took one look at the closets and said, “My God, you could sit twenty down to lunch in here.”
Tim was a corporate lawyer who earned shed loads. Mimi was pretty, without an emotion to speak of and so thin that she practically disappeared when she turned sideways. She did squat all day apart from going out to lunch with her expatriate girlfriends and moving salad around her plate. In the afternoons she might partake of a little light antiquing. She spent practically no time with her children. The only things this woman had ever nursed was a vodka glass and her American Express platinum card.
Mimi may have been a rubbish mother, but she was a generous employer. Every Christmas she bought Cyn an expensive gift. One year it was a cashmere twin set.
“I put it on straightaway to please her,” Cyn told the group. “She stood there scrutinizing me and said, ‘Cyn, that looks just perfect on you.’ ” She could imitate Mimi’s cold, haughty voice perfectly. “ ‘But, you know, I’m just not sure about your breasts.’ Anyway, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I asked her what was wrong with my breasts and she said: ‘Well, let’s put it this way. You might want to rethink your choice of bra.’ ”
“So,” Veronica said gently. “What did you say to her?”
Cyn could feel her eyes starting to water. “Nothing. I said nothing. My mind just went blank. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through me, but I didn’t dare be rude in case she sacked me. That would have meant abandoning those poor children. I couldn’t have done that. Anyway, I realized that Mimi was only jealous because she had two fried eggs on her chest instead of real breasts.”
“I sense that you are really getting in touch with your anger,” Veronica said approvingly.
“Too right I am. I mean, I have really nice breasts.” By now she was getting quite carried away. “They’re biggish, but they’re really firm and perky. They’re not remotely saggy. To hear Mimi go on, you’d have thought I was suckling sextuplets. All the men I’ve slept with have been extremely complimentary about them. You should see me in a Wonderbra.” She failed to notice that Ken was shifting uncomfortably in his seat and practically drooling. “Although I say it myself,” she went on, “I have a rather magnificent cleavage.”
By now she was vaguely aware that she had lost the attention of the group. Her voice trailed off.
“Hello,” the voice behind her said. “Sorry I’m late. I’m Joe.”
Cyn swung round in her seat to face the door. Not Jo as in a woman, but Joe as in a man. An exceedingly cute and sexy man, who now knew all about her firm, perky, not remotely saggy tits and magnificent cleavage.
For the second time that night, Cyn was crippled with embarrassment. One at a time, everybody stood up to shake Joe’s hand. “I am so sorry about what happened just then,” she said to him when her turn came. “I’m not usually like that. I mean, I’m not usually so in-your-face with my breasts . . .”
“That’s OK, I understand.” He was giving her the most delicious smile. “But do you think that maybe I could have my hand back now?”
“Oh, God. Yes.” She released his hand from her grip and watched him flex his fingers as if he was trying to get the blood flowing again.
He took his seat between Jenny and Veronica. “Welcome to our little group,” Clementine trilled, raking her fingers through her hair. Judging by his tight-lipped expression, Ken was watching Clementine’s trilling and raking with mounting jealousy. “So, Joe, what do you do for a living?”
He said was a film and documentaries editor.
“Wow, that sounds so creative and glamorous,” Clementine simpered.
“Not really,” Joe said. “I just sit in front of a computer screen all day, cutting film, trying to make it tell a
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