"There we are. All ready to face the board of directors with head held high. Ah, but that does the heart good." John chuckled. "...kee-rist, how the hell does she walk in those things?"

This last was exclaimed as he caught sight of a woman in stiletto heels that must have measured nearly four inches, tottering along with her rump in the air and another prominent section of her anatomy at the other end threatening to tip her head-over-heels. She was walking a tiny Pomeranian on a leash with a rhinestone-studded collar. The dog's claws were painted the same shade of hot pink as the bow on top of its head and the woman's lipstick. "Fucking dog probably eats better than I do," John muttered, eyeing the animal with deep distaste.