"I used to work in the nude," She informed him loftily, and meant it both ways, as well as to mock him, "It's not much different, really."

She turned away, as if to leave, or perhaps to stroll, and took three of those delicate, mincing little walking-paces that women in Bruce's tax-bracket so-often seemed bred into. Too casual to be genuine, but the swing of her hips was too perfect to ignore. The open back went all to way down in a way that bordered on the obscene. Behind her, the golden ballroom glow painted her dress with the faint tint of white wine.