She was the attitude-woman from the dealer's
room. But she was at a table with three other women and no men. Where was her
Mr. Klingon this morning?
Cade decided it didn't matter a damn where Mr. Klingon was, but he stopped
eyeballing her legs so his system would relax enough that he could leave the
restaurant in time to get to the eleven o'clock writer's panel.
A few minutes later he was able to down the last of his coffee and head for
the escalators. As he was descending, Cade heard a soft swear word as something
ripped behind him. He turned to find a woman kneeling to try to pick up the
contents of her purse.
The seam of her tight skirt had opened all the way up to her ass and she was
scrabbling to pick stuff up before the escalator step reached the bottom.
Cade helped her, of course, and they succeeded, then they stepped to one
side of the escalator and he held her purse and stuff as she tried to do
something about her skirt.
"It's too tight," said Cade. "It'll just open up again. Might as well say to
hell with it and change when you get a chance."
She froze, then gaped irritatedly at him.
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