Then a gong chimed. At first, I wondered about it, not making the connection, but when the sound was answered by the determined click-clack of her heels, anxiety grew in me. This had been a door chime. Someone else was here. Someone else might - soft giggling sounded, fabric rustled, then two sets of heels played their patterns on the floor - someone else would see me naked. I wanted to run, hide, flee. But only for a moment. The footsteps were still approaching and I was looking straight ahead. Anything, yes, I’d do anything. And it was just a game, wasn’t it? A soft shadow fell over the couch and the steps halted. Slowly, hesitantly, I looked up, and my skin exploded in crimson embarrassment. It was a woman, a little younger than her, blonde, a bombshell, with a beautiful, even tan. She was wearing a white cotton dress that exposed a lot of cleavage, but even as I looked her over, her, my goddess’, fingers pushed the straps over her shoulders and it tumbled to the floor. Then she. If I took her, took my payment, then his life would be extended and my revenge would be all the more complete when he eventually folded or put a nine millimetre in his head.I decided to take the easier, hopefully less messy option. She would do for the evening's entertainment. Was that a callous thought? It possibly is, but do I care at all? Not in the slightest.We passed through the cloister with its vaulted ceiling, through a heavy carved oak door into the coolness of my study. The garden is completely shrouded from the outside world, but the study offered an unlimited view through patio doors of a landscaped terraced rockery that lead eventually to the street. If patient enough, it was possible to see people walk along the pavement some fifty metres away.I let her hand go and watched as it dropped to her side lifelessly. The whites of her knuckles showed where she gripped the bag in her other hand. She stood statuesque in the middle of the room; her head still bowed, a thin cotton.
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