It was time for Ms. Representative to leave the office behind, and that meant deceleration time. She would meditate on the dangers of an overactive libido, feel foolish and frightened by turns, and prepare a careful spiel explaining why the whole thing had been a mistake. I would know when she was ready to put all that nonsense aside.
She paced. She leaned against the wall. She squatted in the corner. She stared long and hard at the light fixture, giving me a delicious study of the controlled terror in her eyes. I thought she had seen the camera, but she was only damning the brightness of the light. The better to see you, my dear.
She stood in the center of the room, head bowed. She put her hands behind her back and clasped them. I leaned forward expectantly, watching her get into charac
