She struggled in his arms as she smiled. He let her go and checked one of the stalls. He made a face and shook his head. He went to the handicap stall... He smiled at that and looked back at her. He offered her his hand.She stood there for a minute. She bit her lip. She remembered what one teacher told her about these boys. But she looked at Tone with his blue eyes and that silly chain with the cross on it and that smile, the kind of smile her ex-boyfriend used to give her, and his hand waiting. "My male interrogators take me to a cold, bare warehouse with dirty brick walls and no windows," she added while playing with her top. "They tell me to undress. 'Strip', they say. 'Dance', they say. 'Spread your lips and show us your box. It's embarrassing, Mr Pendrill. It's not nice. They line us up and bend us over and plunge their hands into our slits. It happens, Mr Pendrill; and we have to endure it because it's our job and what else can we do? Female spies have to be strong because. More

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