I put a pile of business suits on my bed and asked her to find one that fit. Then I looked down and saw her crystal-studded sandals, so I went back in the closet looking for a pair of shoes.
When I came out, Amanda was naked. I averted my glaze and tossed the pair of Blahnik pumps on the bed. I looked at my watch and said, "ten minutes!" and walked out of the room.
"You look ... great!" I stammered, and for the first time started to believe that this might actually work. Not only had Amanda chosen a conservative (yet sexy) wool suit, but it fit her perfectly. She had brushed her hair out somewhat and was wearing one of my wife's expensive perfumes.
"Let's go." She confidently strode down the hallway. I stood there stunned, and she grabbed my hand and led me to the elevator. During the five-minute taxi ride to WTI, she re-did her makeup scheme with luxury cosmetics she produced from one of my wife's purses. When she was done, I realized I wouldn't have recognized her on the street - even though I would have stared at this beautiful creature.
When we were waiting in the lobby for our escort to the 55th floor, Amanda asked if I felt that our charade would work. I said "it better." She then asked my permission to stretch the truth if needed during our meeting. "If it helps us get this deal, lie your ass off," I told her.
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