Clothes Maketh The Man — Part 12.

The fog was drifting in as I arrived at the San Francisco advertising agency office. Their waterfront offices had a wonderful view, when you could see it.

The pretty receptionist seemed to know exactly who I was as I arrived and showed me into the executive boardroom, poured a coffee and let me know Frank would be along shortly. Only a moment or two passed before Sylvia appeared, smiled the smile of one who knows, and sat down opposite me.

“Do you plan to stay long?” she asked.

“I’ll fly back on Monday on the mid day flight,” I said. I was almost inclined to ask if I should plan to stick around longer, but Sylvia’s interest in me was unlikely to be something I would relish. Quite the reverse in fact. The last time I had been in this room she had been interviewing me, having already discovered pictures on Intagram showing me in a light I was more than a little uncomfortable with.

“Well, well,” she said. “We shall have to be sure to keep you entertained.” She smiled a steel grey blade like smile and suddenly I felt Devina was not the worst of all things that had permeated into my recent life. Sylvia managed to convey both femininity and a cold hardness that sent a shiver through me.

“I’m at the Hyatt,” I said.