Reluctant as I am to admit it, I have had a lingering curiosity, actually an acute envy, of my co-worker Alessandra. Wherever she goes she looks like she just stepped out of some haute couture fashion shop. Dressed to the nines, dripping in good taste and stunning jewels, who wouldn’t envy her?

I wondered how she did it on her measly salary earned at Crawford’s. One night when we were having a few drinks after work, I finally asked her. “Did some rich old uncle die and leave you his vast fortune?”

She laughed, then leaned over and whispered “You think I can swing all this from my day job? Hardly! I moonlight at that London escort agency across town. I’m paid handsomely. I’m deluged with gifts and meet the most delightful men.”

I was speechless.

Before saying good night I asked for the agency’s phone number.