she met a guy. It was not a big love, just potential of a good dick with a more than pleasant financial background. From these – with some dexterity – even a forever-lasting marriage could have been created. She was invited to the club by the guy. Needlessly. For Samantha would have been plenty enough if the guy had terminated her nun-like lifestyle on her overused, single bed. I could understand her need. I had already been in the fourth week of my indirect celibacy; and the nice things seen in the club were as useful for my status as a smouldering cigarette butt in a petrol station. But Samantha’s guy had seemed to think it serious and given in to the romance. But when things had started to turn to the good, then – like in a castrated, fairy tale – I appeared with my herd. During the interrogation, the guy realized just how many police officers greeted Samantha as an acquaintance; therefore he went after her a bit. After he gained an insight into Samantha’s fore-life, he swayed a little bit, and wanted their budding relationship to be put on another foundation: chiefly and solely carnal based. But Samantha did not want that and did not make a compromise. She dropped the guy and retreated to her own nunnery. I felt sorry for her. I decided to propitiate her.
‘Samantha,’ I interrupted the flow of her words, ‘That night, what was that fragrance on you? All over your body, outside... inside...’
Her look sparkled mischievously. She moved closer to me. Her hand weighed on my aching leg that was resting on the couch. Her eyes deepened into mine. Hers were flirtatious and seductive. Mine were simply sparkling.
‘Why does the Honourable lord of Yard want to know that; who is trying to flee with innocent damsels while he is being beaten on the flat?