Perhaps under the chair? “Next you’ll be telling me that you didn’t know about the cameras.” “Cameras?” “You were being filmed, Linda... In the toilet.” “Filmed? Don’t you need a release clause or something?” Linda asked, desperately trying to find her footing in the rapidly shifting sands. “You mean one of these?” Sergeant Stevens asked, unfolding a piece of paper before sliding it across the table. “That is your signature, is it not, Miss Woodhead?” Linda’s world folded in on her. It was. He currently dressed in a casual black, sweater and black jeans; the man is also wearing a pair of Nike trainers which are black to match the jeans, or it would look out of place. He suddenly stops watching his massive 40 inch, plasma television in his living room, which is a pretty large room with two large chandelier lampshades. The Man thinks to himself while he is sitting down on the sofa, which was a light-brown colour, 'I am bored, I am going to hire a pretty escort girl for the night. More

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