“Can you please take it out?” the young man asks. He’s hunching again, but I sense deliberation in his posture.“Are you sure you want me to?�... I whisper. I take a step back and lure him into the room.Jordan holds his breath before shaking his head. His hands fondle his skirt.“How did you dare to try all this with me?” he says. “What if I’d made a scene?”“I can never be sure, but I like to play with fire.”He lifts his eyes. They widen as he runs them along the walls and ceiling. Thunder sounds. "I'll try to make it as painless as possible."He grinned at her, and they entered their home. The only light was in the kitchen, which Connie had switched on before they'd left. "Hmmmm. Looks like your fate hasn't arrived yet," she said, removing her coat. Jerry took hers and hung it next to his in the foyer closet. Connie was wearing her drop-dead jet-black Armani sheath, the one with the spaghetti straps across her shoulders. It molded itself to her every lovely curve. She could feel her. More

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