She was apprehensive. I'm no psychology expert, but she was quiet, her usual front hidden behind huge brown eyes, and her standoffish body language told me to keep away. And tonight, I was behaving myself.
It was excruciating, but I could do this.
This place was a favourite of ours, because we rarely got spotted here. The kind of place where I could get rid of the shades and cap thing and let loose. 'Psyche' was a part of the Montecito, a bar come night club and often a prime place to pick up a frisky tourist, or a bikini clad waitress wearing a tiny g-string. But tonight my attention, for the second night in a row, was on the woman in the pewter dress. Tonight had been sheer murder, having to keep a cool distance, whilst something about her had me lowering my guard and doing what I ne
