The willowy women strode around the exhibit hall at the
surgical conference like two queens surveying their kingdom. Heads turned as
even the jaded exhibitors, who had been around the country to every hotel
conference center, had to steal a glimpse at these beauties.
The two perched on perilously high heel like flamingoes,
walking gracefully over the industrial carpeting. Oversized sunglasses shaded
their come-hither eyes from the fluorescent lighting. Miniskirts were their
uniforms and one wore a cut-out shirt that showed just a hint of her hip, no
doubt inciting fantasies across the aisles of exhibits.
There was a certain heat in the cavernous space but it had
nothing to do with the way the air conditioner struggled to keep pace with the
balmy Orlando weather.
Who were these sylph-like goddesses? What were they selling?
Have you ever heard of … external fixation? Picture the foot in an erector set
as it is immobilized to recover from trauma or Charcot surgery. These two
magnificent sirens were drawing surgeons to their sexy-ay product at the booth
just down from ours. This was a business strategy that was both smart and
erotic.
Want to get a better idea of what I’m talking about? Search
“external fixation” on Google images. But don’t do it at work. Your boss might
not appreciate the sexxxxy search results.
Maybe at a future conference in some far-off city, I’ll run
into these Amazons again. Until then, sigh
…
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