“Had I really seen Steph being fucked in the club?” I asked myself, as I applied my eye liner. “No couldn’t have been!” I thought. “But it...was her,” I had no doubts. My best friend, married mother of two teenagers. “Fuck, you just never know,” I said out loud.“Never know what?” A voice answered.I looked up. It was my friend from yesterday. The girl from the sex shop.“Oh hi,” I said. “Look thanks for pointing me over here. As you can see, I got the job!”“I saw, last night I mean, watched your. Madame Vesta signed to Jason to bring the cringing figure forward. She was literally dragged to the stool... and then kept there by Jason’s vice-like grip on her neck. The highpitched sounds of terror never ceased to jet from her flared nostrils.„I know about this matter, of course, Miss Judith.“„Yes, Ma’am...“ „A serious offence, of course. Most serious,“ went on Madame Vesta. „But we must make allowances for Julia’s inexperience.“„I suppose so, Ma’am.“ By her tone, one could guess that Miss. The older men's khaki pants were wrinkled and their knit shirts limp. The young man's dark jacket hung sleekly on his chubby body and his ice-blue silk necktie was tightly knotted against his flawless collar. He looked air conditioned. His shoes glowed. His cuff links glittered. His skin was pink, his eyes pale when he lifted his dark glasses to look at me.I introduced myself and said I was looking for a job, a pitching job. I avoided a begging tone, but feared I would come off subservient no. He had arranged to meet Mark MacGhee at 3:30pm and if he didn't hurry he was going to be late.Mark sat in the restaurant that was part of the service for visitors to the Burrell art collection. The huge art collection had been bequeathed to the city of Glasgow in the 1940s by Sir William Burrell, a very wealthy industrialist who had collected art from all around the world.The collection contained an important assortment of medieval art including stained glass and tapestries, oak furniture,.