<div class="floatleft"><div align="center">(https://i0.wp.com/style.pk/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/yasmeen-ghauri-biography-and-photos-18.jpg)<br/></div><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Berlin Sans FB;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"> Taffy Silk<br/>‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾  </span></span></div></div><br/>I squint at the boss, lifting a little of her hair to have light behind.<br/><br/>"Ditzy blonde? Weellll, okay, I guess, as long as you're happy that she may be overqualified."<br/><br/>'Errands' sounds exactly what it is, probably coupled with a little light lawbreaking. This does not look good as a place to start.<br/><br/>"And no castle? Oh, poot. I always wanted to stay in a castle."<br/><br/>I feel the clenched grip as we approach the big house. I deduce that she is hiding something or anticipating something, or maybe needing something or fearing something. Maybe all of them, as they seem to cover all the bases to me. I lean forward and whisper.<br/><br/>"I can be discreet, you know, as well as very expensive."<br/><br/>Giggling, I blow a kiss at the driver so we get remembered, and shuffle up next to the boss, a little nervous of what is to come.<br/><br/>"Ladies who do tea, I feel almost respectable."<br/><br/>I press the bell. What will it be, I wonder. Maid? Butler or butleress? A convention of diamond dealers?