She was a fair, young lady with flaming red hair and icy blue eyes. Her lips were as red as cherry and she wore a sleeveless ox blood coloured gown that clung to her slemder shape, with a slit that went all the way to the base of her thigh.
The receptionist lady fought the urge to sigh in her face. "I'm afraid that he's not around at the moment, Miss."
"How would you know that?" The young woman demanded. "Call him."
The receptionist was taken aback. "Miss, please understand. He submitted a request–"
"I don't want to repeat myself."
The receptionist had the bubbling urge to pull at her hair and scream. 'We go through this every time! Why don't you just give up? Mr. Salviati doesn't want you! I mean, he even has a wife now–'
She paused, placing a thoughtful hand on her chin. 'Wait… should I tell her? Maybe she'll stop coming here if I do. No… that seems unlikely.'
