The cars, billboards and traffic lights were gone and horses and carriages traversed the street instead.“Oh my fucking god!” she whispered. “You...crazy bastard, Mike. It worked.”Once she spoke to the manager and paid for the room for another night, she stepped out onto the street of Pigalle. She could see the lights of the cafe bars twinkling around her as the dusk turned to night. She knew Degas and his contemporaries drank around here so decided the easiest thing to do was go and ask if anyone. Sara could not for the life of her imagine what he saw in Jennifer. Her hair was bad bleach job, and her clothes were just a little, well, they made her look loose. Steve was the section manager and would surely be the division manager within a few years, and the youngest at that. He was smart, good looking, and drove the nicest German import. Jennifer would never make a good wife for him.As Sara got up to leave she was taken aback by a man at a near by table speaking to her. An average--very. More

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