He seemed generous and had called and paid for a cab. I found he had laid out clothes and again. I dressed and touched up my make up. The cab was wait...ng and again stayed in Manhattan but this time a Brown stone mansion. His words about a dog ran through my head as I forced myself up the stairs.A good looking man in his forties opened the door before I knocked. "Ah you must be Stacey, come in. My wife is waiting up stairs." I found myself led up to a massive master bedroom and looked around.. But it was her legs that were the most striking. They were well-toned and athletic, yet still very femine-looking. Melanie was never shy about showing them off. Quite often, she would go to work wearing a dress suit with the hem of her skirt cut no less than six inches above her knees. A slit up the side revealed just a hint of upper thigh whenever she sat down and crossed her knees. She wore no hosiery of any kind, she didn't have to with her beautiful almond complexion. A pair of black high. He thought that men in tights were probablydeviants, the women showing their legs were probably whores, and theclowns were probably thieves hiding from the law in a colourful disguise.He hated the stink of animal droppings and the unwashed humanity. Hedespised the fakery around magicians and conjurors, and above all, heknew that the arrival of a circus meant a rise in pickpocketing, fightsin public houses and animal baiting. And mostly, he was right. Butmurder? Lestrade was desperate to believe. She was overcome with gratitude; Mr. Wilson was so thoughtful and caring."You cooked for me?" She smiled at him."Well, my mother was an alcoholic, so I pretty much grew up on my own," he admitted, embarassed.Scarlet said nothing and just hugged him, resting her head on his muscular chest. Mr. Wilson offered to give her some time on her own, but she insisted he stay. They finished the pancakes; he then drove back to school to pick up his work and to give the assistant principal some bullshit.