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I approached her one night at her apartment--inviting myself over with the ruse of needing to discuss the perfect birthday gift for my wife--armed with photographs of Anne and her ex-fiance taken only the week before.It's not that I wanted to cause Anne any distress. It's just that I wanted her."What the fuck? You followed me!?!" she screamed."I did. You'd been acting... differently, lately," I replied as calmly as I could.She collapsed onto her couch, her head in her hands, and started crying. "Can't you fucking see? I was happy! Happy!"It was always a drama with Anne."You can still be happy, Anne. But I want to be happy, too."Her tears, half crocodile/half genuine, began to recede. "What do you mean?" Simply this; I've been attracted to you since the day I met you. I'd be willing to make sure Madeline never sees these pictures as long as you'd be willing to, uh, fulfill my needs." You mean... you want to fuck me? That's sick! You're my sister's husband!" I don't see anything sick. Remarkably, some six months after our arrival, it seemed that the FO’s optimism might not be misplaced. Whispers began to circulate in Europe that beneath Orintombe’s stony hills lay precious mineral ore. Looking back, there seems little doubt that the source of the whispers was the President-for-Life himself. At the time, such was the fear in London that we might be missing something, hasty decisions were made on the flimsiest of suppositions. I was informed that a party of mineralogists and surveyors would be leaving London the following month. It would not be an easy journey. Orintombe’s nearest airport was in an adjoining nation with whom Ntombe’s relations were fragile. If the survey party made it through customs and immigration, which wasn’t guaranteed, they faced a journey of 573 miles over bad roads. Once arrived, they were to be given every assistance but on no account should the reason for their visit be disclosed. How this was to be achieved was left to me. The first test.
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" Where to Cathy, tell me, sweetheart?" I don't know, and I don't bloody care, he took all the money out of our account, all the petty cash we had here, a few clothes and his car. He just walked in about an hour ago, called me a fucking slut, did this," she touched the bruise and winced, "Called me a whore again and left." What about this place, the hotel?" I don't care, Derek, I feel like walking away and leaving it." What about me, are you going to walk away from me as well?" Oh Derek, you don't want me, be honest, you must have fucked a thousand women who are better than me." I haven't actually, this is the first job I've done in the UK for about ten years. I've spent most of that time in the middle east or Africa working in oil fields. Women aren't always readily available out there, and those that are available, well," I left it hanging, not really wanting to get into the aids issue."I'll make a few phone calls, Derek, and get you into another hotel." Why?" Because you'll need.

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