I had to get out, to avoid him again. To avoid the look in his eyes.To avoid the shame of another man gazing at me like that, half-naked.And wearing ...anties.I bolted off the table, and threw my shirt back on, and with my heartbeating about a million times a second at the prospect of seeing him inthe hallway, I made a bee-line for the reception area, to pay and leave.There was a little old lady in one of the chairs in the waiting room.She looked up at me suddenly, as if I'd scared her.Her eyes. She was an attractive woman: that was for sure. Slim, curvy and, this she knew from the heads that turned appreciatively as she strode across the bar, very striking. Her hair fell over her face, almost obscuring her well-rouged cheeks. Had the hairdresser left her hair too long? Or could he have snipped a little more off? This was an extra anxiety she could have done well without. She returned to the bar where Kenneth was waiting, sipping his glass of wine, the Guardian that had identified him. More

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