He checked his computer, only one bed was in use. He scribbled a note for the client and headed for the employee elevator which would take him into the office. ‘Shira?’ he asked, opening the door. ‘Ashira, calm down, and put that away,’ Jake said, reaching carefully for Ashira. She jumped and the open blade of the scissor nicked Jake on the hand. He winced, but carefully extracted Ashira’s hand from the scissors. ‘Shira, it’s okay,’ he murmured, pulling her to him. ‘You’re okay, he isn’t here.’ ‘He was,’ Ashira sobbed. ‘What?’ Jake asked. ‘I found this at my station,’ Ashira said through body wracking sobs. Jake took the note from her. ‘C’mon sweetie, let’s go get some air,’ he murmured, pulling Ashira to her feet. ‘What’s going on?’ Lindsey asked. Jake pulled a Kleenex from the box, folded the note up in it and handed it to Lindsey. ‘Call the police and give them that. I’m taking Ashira outside for some air,’ he replied, leading Ashira to the patio. -Later that day- ‘Hi Linds,’. Now I was standing in front of a building, the one we worked out of in Trieste. An upper middle class house on a cobblestone street. I went inside. She greets me in the living room. It’s very much a European room to my mind, small, dark wood, intimate. ‘Sit,’ she tells me, indicating a chair. ‘I have something for you.’ I do so, wondering. The job is done. I can return to my old life now, away from her. In spite of the close moment we had shared, being around her still pained me. I needed to go. She stood in the middle of the floor and began to remove her clothes. She pulled her shirt over her head. Her alabaster skin seemed to glow. Her breasts were small and firm. They would be barely a mouthful if I suckled on them. Something stirs in my chest. I can’t quite identify it. Fear? Pain? Lust? Love? I don’t know. It won’t stand still long enough for me to recognise it. She unbuckles her belt and pants. Turning her side to me, she slides her garment off her hips. Bending, she continues.
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