Havana Dig ...

I was standing beside the pool at my former boss's home, a huge pile in the ritziest part of town.

A salsa band played in the sunken courtyard below, and I was watching the dancers at the Havana Nights theme party.

My boss - an attention vampire who made our lives a misery on a daily basis - was amongst them.

She was trashed and I wondered what would happen if the smouldering Cuban cigar in her hand touched the cobweb lace of her Versace dress.

In my imagination, her face melted and her silicone breasts exploded in a shower of flame. That's when Angela came over and stood beside me.

"Dawn told me that she spent four years as a professional dancer," she said, raising her glass and smiling at the boss's husband, who superceded his wife by 20 years and $10 mill.

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Yeah. I told her I didn't think pole dancing counts."