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I clomped, snapped my fingers and jiggled my boobies along that long hall past the staircase. When something brushed my ankle, I looked down and his hand was protruding through the balusters! If this were the old Ally McBeal show, the sound of a needle scratching across a record would have ended the fun. However, this is not a TV show, so a punched a button on my Walkman to stop the music. “What in hell are you doing?” I heard from down in the stairwell. With my best aloof expression I replied, “Rewinding!” I punched the play button then spread my arms wide and grabbed onto railing with both hands. I leaned well over the banister and alternately shrugged each shoulder in time to the music. That sent my breasts into the most undisciplined pattern of jounces. As the Cheshire Cat grinned up, I set my hips into rotating humps, which in turn sent Louise’s locket into motion once more. He peered through the balusters, seemingly engrossed by what he witnessed for a minute then stepped. The tears had given her a headache, the astringent smell of cleaning chemicals and the air fresheners used to try and cover the smell of death had just added to it. And she was more tired than she had ever been in her life. She had ridden back here to the station with him, begging off a second interview with Sheri’s manager to come into his office and go over some paperwork. She hadn’t seen the look of concern in Nick’s eyes at the unusual request. She’d just turned and walked away. Now he was back and had caught her sleeping. Thinking with her eyes closed her mind stubbornly injected. He probably thought she was too weak to keep up with him. Her body pleaded with her to admit she was, her mind forced her to fight. And he was touching her, and she wasn’t pushing him away, was enjoying the contact with him. She curled her fingers around his, stubbornly relishing every second that she could tell herself later had been weakness. ‘As if,’ she tried to smile. ‘Not modest, are you,.
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