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Michèle had her coat and hat on and was just about to leave when the phone rang.

"I know you are just about to leave, Michèle, but could you go and help the guy in room 1243 who is having problems with the wireless internet."

"But my knowledge is pretty limited if it isn't something basic."

"It's just some dumb American who probably can't find the on-button for his computer. And if you can't fix it the technicians should be finished setting up the seminars tomorrow by then and they can go and help."

"OK," Michèle agreed reluctantly.

Michèle worked in guest relations in an upmarket hotel in Montreal. Or Montréal as she would spell it since she was actually a Francophone although she spoke perfect English, albeit with a mild French accent that Americans found cute.

She took the elevator and soon was knocking on the door to room 1243. It was opened by a trim man who was slightly shorter than her in her heels, wearing a suit and tie.

...

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