SIXTY-FOUR
Grant sat at his computer in the local coffee shop; his fingers flew across the keyboard as though they were possessed. He was typing up his exposé, the tail of the CIA and the Russians mixed up in a plot to blow up New York. Sure, he didn’t have all of the facts, but he could fill in the blanks. This would be his masterpiece, his Mona Lisa. The waitress poured him another coffee without asking. She knew him too well to ask. If he was writing, just keep them coming. He stopped for a moment to take a brief break. He looked out of the window and out into the street, he felt the warm morning sunshine against his skin, and he closed his eyes to take in the rays as they caressed his flesh.
“Why Mr Grant, fancy meeting you here” He looked up to see the startling beauty of Missy Stud
