Most were business related emails but there was one from a Patti Johnson. Who is she, I asked myself. I opened it up. “Dear Carter,” it starts out... I’m in my office at home where nobody bothers me. Not even my wife bothers me when I’m in there and I’m reading this email from some girl. “You don’t know me but we met, in a manner of speaking…kind of at the concert the other night.” I tried thinking about it. I never met any girl. I sat back and thought about it. Wait, there was that one girl.. "What's thecode?" She increased the weight on my neck to ensure a speedy answer. "Thirty-five twenty, Mistress." "You IDIOT!" - and she slapped the lash over the pink traces she hadinflicted earlier, when Rita had found a stray cigarette end in asupposedly cleaned corridor - "Couldn't you have changed that tosomething easier to remember?" I remained silent: there was no reasoningagainst the charge. "Thirty-five twenty" Sabrina repeated to herself, while Rita had mestand up before her, still. More

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