The fashion presentation was brilliant. Girls looked even more beautiful than back in London, and what was more important for me, they seemed to be wearing even higher heels!

This time, there was no need for me to pretend to be a reporter, so I enjoyed the show more than ever. There still remained a question to be resolved though: would Breta wear her famous eight inches heels or not?

She didn't disappoint me. At the end of the presentation my beautiful lady (my? I thought to myself. Yes, MY! Let me think about her this way since she didn't mind... Since she didn't know... What's the difference anyway?!) appeared at the podium alone and as attractive as never before.

Her platinum hair splendidly toned with gorgeous light blue wedding dress that revealed soft velvet of her neck and shoulders and huge skirt of which purled to the very floor. Because of that, I couldn't see her feet, but she seemed to be taller than usual (was that possible?) An average-sized man could easily be hidden beneath this lush skirt, so I judged that my expectations were met.

My conjecture proved to be correct when the catwalk ended and all models stepped on the scene accompanied by spectators' ovation. All of them - Grace, Maria, Stella and Rosa - were wearing heels, but even with them on, they didn't make it up to Breta's breasts. Only Lisa could proudly stand next to her towering friend with her innocent face at the level of the Swede's cleavage!

I knew, they would be busy for another 20 minutes or so - receiving flowers, shaking hands with sponsors, kissing couturier and each other, changing cloths, - so I decided to have a drink meanwhile. A bar was installed right there, at the lounge, so I wouldn't miss them anyway.

What a small world! At the bar, I met Jeff, my classmate from high school. We used to call him Longie because of his surname, which was Long, as well as his height of 6 foot 5 or 6 inches.

I haven't seen Longie for ages. He was an IT specialist, and I heard that after hi-tech boom was over in the West he moved somewhere to Asia to try and take a new start. It was a pleasant surprise to find him after all these years, and I almost forgot why I was there.

When Jeff asked what was I doing in Japan, I told him everything except of my ever attraction to a taller women. He didn't believe a word; he probably decided that I was a secret agent or something. 'Nice legend,' he said. 'I see, you still keep your sense of humour!'

Lost in memories, I didn't notice that plenty of time passed by, and girls still hasn't come out.

'Excuse me, sir,' I flinched: again, a female voice came from behind me. This time, however, it was a petit Japanese girl, a member of hotel staff. 'You are Mr.J, aren't you? I interrupted you just to remind that you are invited on a dinner that is being served on the 38th floor, sir. Thank you.'

'Oh, I see, the resident can't wait to see you,' smiled Jeff as his eyes followed the girl's bum.

'Yep, and I'd like you to witness the meeting to prove I didn't make any intelligence fault would anything go wrong,' I replied. 'Do you have an hour to spare?'