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29The English Channel, 6 July 2014
The bedroom was bereft of windows or mirrors; the walls, slate grey; a king-size bed occupied the centre. Jeremiah Smith had selected a Nepalese shaman facemask for the duration of the act. The woman, lying on the bed, with him pounding away atop her, was accustomed to the eccentricities of her clientele. She was being paid well for her services and discretion.
When he was done, he fell atop her, shivering from his exertions. He lay still, draped over her long enough for her to be concerned he’d suffered a coronary. That had happened before with an older man; an outcome she accepted as a compliment.
“Sir, are you all right?”
No response, but his breathing had returned to its normal rhythm. She spread her legs and attempted to wiggle out from under
