Chapter Nine
“As I watched the two heads in the Tapas Bar window, nodding and shaking animatedly as, no doubt, they discussed the latest buck to put it to them; I leant back against the cool leather of the headrest and allowed it to return me again to that time, three months before.
The memory of my capitulation waiting patiently to torment me afresh:
“Now, Martin,” she had said tone switching to deadly serious; “I’m going to lay out what I expect from you and –if you know what’s good for you- I do not want to be interrupted.”
Holding my eyes with her own then -satisfied the fight was all but extinguished in them- she went on:
“While I’m talking you can make yourself useful by giving me a nice foot massage. I know they’re a little… ripe, from having been in my pumps all day but you kn
