"It was raining in the City. A rain hard enough to wash the scum off the streets, and send the cockroaches and rats scurrying for shelter. The downpour filled my office with a hiss like frying bacon. I took off my soaked shirt, flinging it over on to the faded, cracked leather armchair, and poured myself a drink. It had been a bad day. Worse than usual I mean. The case was stalled. The cheap scotch I sipped from a cracked cofee cup slid hot and rough, down my throat and in to my belly. My receptionist, Mrs. Crane, shook her head as she tidied the case files scattered like fallen leaves over my desk, tutting noisily to herself. I watched. She'd worked for me for maybe three three years, efficient and stratchy, buttoned up like a tight raincoat. In her mid forties maybe, and, now I took the trouble to study her, a good looking dame. As she bent over my desk to reach the last of the files, her skirt tightened over the curves of her derierre, and I was suddenly hungry for her....."