When he walked into the flat he was surprised to see a strange girl with an odd blonde hair cut, naked on his sofa. He stepped back and examined a door. It had been locked. He was perfectly sure of that. And none of the windows could open wide enough to allow a person to squeeze through. Especially one with such ample… assets, as this young lady had. And was she really drinking champagne? Where had she got champagne from?

“Darling,” she said. “Darling, where have you been? It’s been so perfectly dull without you.”

He looked at her. “Who are you? How did you get in? And where did you get a bottle of champagne from? I don’t drink champagne?”

The girl appeared to hesitate. The he realized that it was a look of shock.

“You don’t drink champagne?! How frightful. Oh dear, you do look so frightfully cross with me. You’re not cross are you? Not really?”

He had been angry, but as he looked at her (carefully at her face I might add) he could feel it drain. He could sustain even a small amount of ire in the face of a large pair of green eyes. He sighed.

“I would like to know what you are doing in my flat. And who you are.”

*************************************

Any idea of what happened next is welcome…