“Denise Peterson?” he confirmed. She nodded and responded with a quiet, “Yes.”“I’m Private Craig Kirkman and I may be able to help you.”...He gestured to the seat in front of his desk. “Sit down please. Would you like a coffee?” She was no great beauty, with dull brown hair, a plain face and her body tending towards pear-shaped with slightly large thighs visible in her tight jeans. Craig found himself unexpectedly attracted by her appearance. Perhaps it was her contrast with the sometimes. She stood statuesque in the middle of the room; her head still bowed, a thin cotton flower print dress hanging on her limp body. “Put the bag down.” She dropped it at her feet, simply opening her hand to allow it to fall. It was the simplest of movements, almost pitiful.“Take your dress off.” I noticed her glance up at the window, the calculation of the possibility of being seen through the patio doors was plainly evident as it flashed through her mind.“It wasn’t a request; take it off.” Her. More

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