"I think we've got it!
It was really very simple once we found the point of stress.
The weight of each breast pulls to either side. That means the origin of stress falls between them, right in the center of the cleavage."
I stared at him.
His language was a curious mixture of engineering and wardrobe design. But he was too wrapped up in his explanation to pay attention to my look. "The whole thing then became a problem of compensation. We had to find a way to utilize the stress to hold the breasts steady.
I inserted a V-shaped wire in the cleavage using the suspension principle. Understand?"
I shook my head. "You went way past me."
"You know the principle used in a suspension bridge?"
"Vaguely," I said.
"Under that principle, the more pressure the mass exerts against itself, the more pressure is created to hold it in place."
I nodded.
I still didn't understand it completely.
But I had all I needed for now. What I wanted to know was would it work?
I didn't have long to wait for the answer.
Rina came into the office shortly after that with Ilene Gaillard.
Deliberately she let the wrap fall to the floor and stood there in the repaired negligee.
"Walk toward Mr. Cord," the designer said.
Slowly Rina walked toward me.
I couldn't take my eyes from her.
The sweetest pair of knockers a man ever put his head down on.
She stopped in front of my desk and looked down at me.
For the first time that afternoon, she spoke.
"Well?"
I was conscious of the effort it took to raise my eyes and look up into her face.
Her eyes were cold and calculating.
The bitch was always exactly aware of the effect she had on me. She started to turn away.
"One more thing, Miss Gaillard," I said. "Tomorrow when we start shooting, I want her in a black negligee, instead of that white one.
I want everybody to know she's a whore, not a virgin bride."
"Yes, Mr. Cord." Ilene came up to my desk, her eyes shining. "I really think we're going to set a new style with Miss Marlowe.
Unless I'm completely mistaken, women all over the world will be trying for her style once this picture comes out."
I grinned at her. "We didn't set the fashion, Miss Gaillard," I said. "Women looked like women long before either of us was born."
She nodded and started out.
I looked around the room. The meeting was over and everybody was getting stiffly to his feet.
Nevada was the last one out and I called him back.
He came back to my desk.
I turned and looked at my secretary. She was still sitting there, her book filled with shorthand notes.
"What've you got there?" I asked.
"The minutes of the meeting."
"What for?"
"It's a company rule," she said. "Minutes of all executive meetings are recorded and copies circulated."
"Give me that book." I held it over the wastebasket and set a match to it.
When the flame caught, I dropped it into the basket and looked up at her.
She was staring at me with an expression of horror. "Now trot your fat little ass out of here," I said. "And if I ever hear of any minutes of meetings in this office ever showing up outside these walls, you'll be looking for another job." Nevada was smiling as I turned back to him. "I'm sorry I had to speak the way I did, Nevada."
"That's all right, Junior.
I shouldn't have shot my mouth off."
"There's a lot of people in this town think I'm a sucker and that I got conned into a bum deal. You and I know that's not true but I have to stop that kind of talk.
I can't afford it."
"I understand, Junior.
Your pappy was the same way.
There was only one boss when he was around."