She closed the door, sliding the bolt across. Hands on hips, legs slightly apart, shoulders back, chest thrust forward. I gaped at her. She raised her...eyes and I shut my mouth. “Stunning.” I said, and meant it. She smiled, turning a full circle, slowly. The mirror behind her meant she could see my reactions at all times. I think my appreciation was apparent, as she gazed at my crotch. “Just the effect I was hoping for,” she said. Tentatively, I put my hands out, onto her arms. She didn’t pull. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked impertinently. ‘How do you mean?’ she asked. ‘What are you doing for a living?’ he demanded. ‘I’m stringing together a living, I’m doing okay,’ she answered, but soon she was talking about submitting her CDs to an agent in Europe, where sound designers are making musicians redundant in the creative audio arts industry. ‘Who is Perpetua?’ he interrupted. ‘She’s a figment,’ she answered. ‘Of your revenge?’ he pulled out mercilessly. She laughed, but there was. More

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