"Mr Fisher?" she said in a honeyed voice. She was my sort of age, thirtysomething, with black hair that gleamed in the subdued lights and eyesof a sta...tling blue. There was a wedding band about her slim finger."Do I look like a Mr Fisher?" I asked, smiled and set down my bag. Shewas sitting behind the desk, I could just see the swell of her breastsdown the front of her blouse."34 years old, sandy haired, smart suit and good shoes. Definitely a MrFisher. I'm Hazel. How was your day?" Tedious," I. Maybe it was a good thing on a rare occasion, but I don’t like surprises. Getting no response, I waited until we arrived home and went to where the schedule hung on the wall. I called out loud enough for her to hear. “There’s nothing on the calendar. You must have the wrong day.”“No mistake Ron.” She came into the kitchen.Now I was confused and getting frustrated at not knowing. “I don’t understand.” My tone of voice showed my growing level of frustration.“Watch your tone, Ron! Get your pajamas. More

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