As I slipped onto a bar stool in Sydney's historic Marble Bar, the thigh-high split in my dress parted and perfectly showcased my bronzed sun-kissed leg. That spectacle was wasted on the barman who was otherwise occupied, inspecting my ample, albeit more modestly displayed, cleavage. "One of your Expresso Martinis to end my day, charged to my room, thanks," I said, resisting the urge to
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