"Frottage, clean the sybian," ordered Lady Jessica Featherstonehaugh as she climbed off the sex machine with a squelch and stubbed out her cigar on the aged retainer's bald head. "Did you instruct Drummond to saddle up Rusty? I am meeting Sir Percy Cholmondeley in Hyde Park at ten." "Yes, m'Lady, of course, m'lady," snivelled Frottage, reaching for his handkerchief. "With your
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