“You’re really being very difficult.” “And you’re being very obtuse, darling Eric.” “Just realistic, dear.” I turned toward the kitche.... “I suppose you want some more of that bourbon?” “Just ginger ale. I took a couple of Tylenol so I wouldn’t have a headache.” “I have ginger ale,” I acknowledged. I moved into the kitchen, found a water glass, plopped a couple of ice cubes in it, took the ginger ale from the refrigerator and poured half a glass. I waited for the bubbles to recede, and then. She toyed with the ridge of his swollen head, all the while looking up at him with those needy eyes. He smiled at her. They were lidded with passion and a need she couldn’t hope to control. When the project here was finished, he would have to try and secure a personal supply of the drug. They kept it closely guarded, but he knew ways. His superiors weren’t as clever as they thought. Well, except for Obersturmfuhrer Helga Bachmeier, of course. She was a woman to be feared. Even so, it was worth. More

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