That is good. I also have your measurements. They are adequate, but you need to lose a couple inches off your waist. "I blushed. In any other situatio... I would have been furious at the insult. I mean sure, it was true, but you just don't tell a woman that. But this was the nature of this relationship, I sensed, and in this context... It felt right somehow that he should tell me how I should better myself.He studied my reaction and seemed satisfied. "You have twenty-four hour access to the gym. You'll be a surrogate girlfriend to many of these men.They'll tell you about their lives and expect you to listen andsympathise. It's a big part of the job. You'll need to work on yourwomanly comforting skills. Those killer legs and that pout won't doall the work for you. Anyway, are you still interested?"She thought about it for a moment, it all seemed so much more seriousthat she'd expected. The idea of having clients, regular ones whowanted her to be girlfriend, mother and sex thing,. Later, while he lay in a strange bed, reading himself to sleep, there was a tap on his door. He was in his jockey shorts, and he thought it must be Felicity, with some last minute instruction. He decided to tease her by answering the door in just his underwear.It was Annie, instead.“Is there anything else you ... Oh my!” she yipped, her eyes slithering all over his mostly naked form.“Oh,” he said. “It’s you. I’m sorry. I thought you were Felicity.”“Do you often meet her like ... this?” asked. I remembered how heavy they were at the time. The constant back pains, the expensive bras. Then I remembered the looks. Every woman knows the looks they get from men, no matter how big or small. With every movement any man near them will try to sneak a peek, hoping to catch a glimpse. From a slight peek as they bent over to pick something up, or if a man was looking down, a sneaky glance to see between the buttons of their shirt. No matter what a woman would wear there was always a look. I.