Whether the woman's face had changed tofit the mental image, or the memory of the dreams hadchanged to match her features was unclear. However, theyma...ched. Perhaps it was a game of the mind. She'd calledhim by his name, though. The swirl of confusion rose. Lenfelt an undeniable urge to get away from her. He beganagain to move."When you lie in bed at night, caressing yourself, you arethat woman, that auburn-haired woman. You don't know why,and you're dreadfully ashamed to think such things, but. Whatever. I had gained a serenity that I had envied in Christine. She has no decisions to make. Mine were already made. I tried not to think about the consequences, because it would scare the spit out of me.My audience was one woman, four men and Sean, who already knew. I examined the five. Three of the men I might have approached as potential clients. The fourth was Francis Costello from the local paper. The woman was clearly paired with the star of the bunch, Michael Gordon of the Wall Street. More

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