The place was alright, just too small and too much $$$.
The lady who showed it to me was mid 40's, and mentioned she just got divorced. She was attractive, and had a nice body. I was sneaking peaks when I could... She also had a thick accent.
So when I'm leaving, she says that if I want to call her... the number is in her pants. I froze. What??? I said I was sorry, I didn't hear her and she repeats "The number is in my pants." I was trying not to look... Then she says "My pants..." and points to my chest.
I remember then that she gave me some pens with her number on them. Pens... The number is on my pens...
Thank God I didn't go to jail today. Thank God...
