Ms Sloane PresidesChapter 8 Boobs
Another summons. Another heel-and-toe up the back stairs to see Ms. Sloane. Being well versed in the art of social conviviality, I shortstopped the impending business discussion with what, in the higher corporate circles, is called an ice breaker. “Ms. Sloane, I’m thinking of having my shirts monogramed. Spiffy, no?” “No.” “Huh?” What’s wrong with Bertram Owen Osgood Brewster? She handed me a pen, “Write the monogram out, Birdie.” Done. I gave it the double-o, and it took but a mo,...