The office was a low-slung rather suburban looking affair. If it hadn't been for the sign outside, people might have been able to mistake it for just another single-level ranch in suburbia. Birds chirped, the sun was high and the air was remarkably clean. A testament to the fact nobody in this town seemed to drive much of anywhere, preferring instead to walk or jog, ride a bike. As a consequence, there were seemingly few people in town who might be described as fat.
In the driveway, though, is a rather nice old Aston Martin. If there were any Bond aficionados present, they might recognize it as the DB5 from Goldfinger.
As you walk in, you see a pretty, young secretary. VERY pretty...sexy even. Long blonde hair arranged in a loose bun behind her head with an excellent display of cleavage on perfect E cupped breasts if they were an inch. She smiles and nods at you, "You must be one of the new hires. What's your name, please, sir?" She whizzes through a bunch of screens on her very impressive desktop. For such a bucolic town, you almost might have expected them to still be using pen and paper!
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