At 5pm, they all left on the dot, I was slowly getting ready to leave, " it's nice to see someone taking their time, not rushing" she said. My mind worked overtime straight away, she just had that aria about her, she was different, natural, so honest, so easy to chat, but there was something else, something I couldn't put my finger on. We chatted for a while, life, friends, family anything really, nearly missed the train I was so engrossed in her.Over the next couple of days I wake up early, yes she was on my mind, lodged there, went in early, stayed late just so he could chat to her, she seemed to like it to, found out a lot about each other, past jobs, experiences in life, what they shared, but I always had a feeling there was something else. Some mornings or during the day her face was flushed, made her look even more attractive, but why ? One time she came out of the office, walked past me, her walking different but sexy, the cheeks of her shapely arse pushed together, could it. Instead, he had something rather expensive, and more than a little dangerous that used a vacuum pump to force all of the air out of the vault. In less than a minute there would not be enough oxygen left for a fire to burn, in less than three there would be no air whatsoever to breathe. It would be messy, but so was what he had left me to find at his little hide-away apartment where he and his demonic spouse enjoyed watched a young lady nearly die slowly by inches. It sounded like a fair trade to me.The insulation was so thick inside his secret vault that if he ever awoke and pounded on the door pleading for escape I never heard so much as a hint of it.I poured myself a glass of the brandy that he had been enjoying before his terminal nap, and debated sitting down in one of the parlour Louis XVI chairs. They were real and the fabric was original so I decided that it would be a shame to smear dried blood from my shirt all over them. There was nothing particularly special about them, no.
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