How tall are you anyway? You into sports?” She took a step closer and stooping to hold eye contact, she started laughing. It was hearty, from down d...ep. Her face seemed to break into fragments of light. “I’m six-foot three,” she said. Holy shit! “And” “Forty-two.” “And?" “One-forty-four.” “Anf?” “And, I’m not telling you my bra size!” She straightened, then said, “I ski in winter and play tennis in summer. Now, if there are no more questions, lay back and let me get on with it or you won’t. After the waitress brought us our soup Elena exclaimed, “He is a fucking useless twit. Daddy keeps him around because he is an expert at being exactly the condescending prick manager the snots expect to work at a place of this caliber. It is the same reason those dumb trust fund morons will wait all night for the chance to get a table here even when there is no way in hell it will ever happen. All they care about is being seen here. It doesn’t matter if they get to eat here. Can you believe. More

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