Polly turned back to him. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“I’m not really a big drinker—”
“Just a glass of wine. Oh Fifi,” she called out.
A beautiful and perky young blonde in a black-and-white maid’s outfit came over to them, carrying a tray with some filled wine glasses. Her costume was very brief and left little to the imagination, especially the perfectly cantilevered evidence of her mammalian heritage. “Oui, Mademoiselle?” she asked.
Polly smoothly slipped a pair of glasses off the tray, giving one to Herodotus and keeping one for herself. “Fifi, I want you to make sure Hero has everything he wants.”
The maid looked up at Herodotus’s face and smiled. “I will do my best,” she promised, her voice suddenly husky. Her shoulders and hips swiveled in counterpoint, as though on
