Something is wrong, I just know it. The email from May struck a chord with Miss Davenshaw. Yes, something was wrong. She cast her mind back to yesterday. She remembered the start of the meeting but, apart from an impression that May hadn’t got the result she wanted and that it was somehow her – Miss Davenshaw’s – fault, it was just a series of vaguely recognisable sensations, sensations which nonetheless tugged at her subconscious but which she couldn’t quite place. Deciding that that in itself was something wrong she agreed to May’s request. She replied asking May to come to her Picadilly Circus flat at 8. That was odd. She normally liked to meet in a bar near work and she couldn’t quite work out why she had asked May to come to her home. But figuring that it didn’t matter she didn’t allow herself to think too much about it. What was important was that things were done right by May. She had a determination to ‘do the right thing’ even if she couldn’t quite articulate why the. There was nothing to see, of course, but it gave her a tingly feeling to be able to control his attention like that. She put her glasses back on and at the same time, as if unconsciously, she moved her feet to the highest rung of the stool, raising her knees above the dividing wall. She leaned forward on her elbows…but was careful to keep her knees together, and was amused and gratified to see his glance flick downward more and more often. She toyed with him for the rest of the afternoon—letting her knees drift apart…then somehow together again just when he happened to look there. She used her elbows to gradually inch her dress up towards the top of her thighs, pretending not to notice when he unconsciously licked his lips. Lin was having the time of her life…and she thought her pretence of displaying herself innocently was totally convincing. She was wrong. She had been paying too much attention to the direction of his gaze and not enough to its content. Otherwise she’d have noticed.
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