His name was Tom and he was Victor’s old friend.They went directly to the kitchen, to grab some beers.Then they both came outside and Tom whispered ...hen he saw me in a very tiny yellow bikini. It was really a very small piece of cloth, that barely covered my shaven mound and my dark nipples…I liked the guy, but I was a bit ashamed he could see me almost naked. He could not never keep his eyes off my breasts. I could remember him during a football game at home, having an erection in his trousers. Maybe to others her name did mean something, but it rang absolutely no bells at all with me. I did regularly read the “society” pages of all the British national papers in the Public Library, and some of them were clients or potential clients at one time or another, but the name Marcia la Mare meant nothing at all to me in any social context.I replied, “And I am Edgar Onslow, Madam, a private investigator. How may I assist you?”“You do know who I am, don’t yah, hey?” There was more than a hint. More

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