It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. "No, no, Sir," replied Ireton. She found herself looking sheepishly around the bedroom when a sudden tingle of electricity moved from her groin, fanning out from her belly. Just dreamed—and ran away even from my dreams. He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. “You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump.
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