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My attempts to apologize was not working, and the embarrassment my action had caused for her was very apparent. I was still blaming myself, though the truth was that she was embarrassed since she had realized that I likely knew that she was enjoying herself as I lay there with my head on her bosoms. As if to reassure her, I reached out and grabbed her right palm and held it gently in my left hand. A few seconds passed by and the grip of her palms started strengthening on my palm; I responded by squeezing her hand back. The cabin was dark. Most people in the row, including the Chinese lady sitting in the window seat, had dozed off to sleep. The flight attendants had also retired to take a quick nap after a hard routine of serving dinner to this rather full flight. My head was turned towards her. She turned her head and started looking at me. As we sat there, without speaking a word, our body language had some how communicated the buildup of desire for each other. We started to lean. I'm sick of this case anyway." --Two Days Later-- The alleys were dark, hidden from the city lights. All was quiet, except for the sound of running footsteps. One belonged to a fleeing man, looking quite terrified of his chaser. A tall, twenty-one year old, beautiful and well built woman with long brown hair and cold, ice blue eyes was tearing down the alleyway, catching up to him in mere moments as she kicked the back of his left leg, sending him tumbling to the ground. He looked up at his chaser, terror stricken across his face. Claire looked down at her target, wearing a dark blue officer's uniform; a M1911 handgun was strapped to her calf, and a baton was on her hip, not that she needed it. She was cold, ruthless, and could take on nearly anyone she wanted, and come out on top. The guy beneath her was crawling away, dragging his left leg along with him, as she sighed and rolled her eyes at his stupidity. Walking over to him, she kicked his side and pulled the handgun from its.
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