“I only come here to see you,” I said with the flicker of self-consciousness which I was still trying to eradicate from my increasingly common flirting. I ordered a coffee with milk and the pastry basket and watched her beautiful ass as it moved beneath the soft, tight shorts as she walked away.And it was true that I had one eye on the long game with Elise, but she was much younger than me, so I was going to let it happen naturally, rather than issue an invitation that brought with it a chance of rejection.Today, though, I had other things on my mind. Namely Lorraine, not one of that week’s crop of American tourists, but a fellow resident, whom I had met the previous day with her husband, Norman. Lorraine was short and stout, with a ruddy complexion and freckles all over her chest. And what a chest. Her breasts hung beneath her colorful sundress like warm, ripe, brown, freckled mangoes. I had had great trouble averting my gaze from them during our conversation. I had no problem with. And now I feel as though I am about to lose another one. I won’t be able to do much once you’re in a Saudi jail cell, Martin. And it’s not as if they have an elaborate appeals process for spies. Please don’t go. Reconsider this ... suicide mission. I beg of you.”“Caroline? I will be around to annoy you for years to come. I promise.”I offered her a kiss on the cheek, but she turned away, opened the front door and got into her car. I watched her drive off for much longer than it took Richard to round the first corner. Mel came to get me. Her cool hand was on my shoulder, on the bare piece of skin at the back of my neck.“Come inside, Martin. She’s still your friend.”“I really hope so, Mel.”Monday, June 29th. Sussex Gardens.After a not very restful night and a Sunday mostly spent playing with Edwin, I went to work as usual. Ali came to collect me and I had my daily morning swim in the basement pool. I managed a full kilometre, although it took me forty minutes. I then showered, got.
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