Maybe. She wasn't even my type, the brunette hard-bodied girl of my dreams. Blonde, fair-skinned, and short-waisted, she had me making mental notes on...how to ditch her as soon as we met. No big deal. I didn't need any more trouble anyway. I'd fuck with her head, she'd get pissed and leave me alone, and Johnnie Walker and I could get reacquainted. She didn't say much either, which was fine with me. She led me to the opposite side of the L-shaped club the first night and settled in close beside. " Robert Peter looked curious at that, raising a thin eyebrow, took the letter and popped it open with his thumb. He took out and unfolded a pair of eyeglasses and stood there under a ring of candles in his front hall and read one side and then the other and then went back and read the first side again."Preposterous," he said, taking off his glasses. And snorting, a very odd sound."Sir?" Alexander Beall said."Outrageous," Peter said, putting his glasses away."Yes sir," Beall said, "but will you. More

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