The manager was only human... his eyes dropped immediately towards her bosom, pausing for a good look before his brain caught up and jerked his eyes away. He stammered a moment before finally composing himself.<br/>"Er, er, er... M clubs? Why, I'm sure I don't know what you mean..."<br/>The sentence had a hook in the end... again typical for New York, nothing was done without the implicit suggestion of reward. Also, most people worked hard at avoiding misconceptions... he wanted to ensure he knew what he meant. He always kept at the back of his mind the Senator that actually wanted a real massage... that was an embarrasing misunderstanding.