He hurried to the service elevator. Moe trailed behind, carrying the girl and keeping an ear out for the sound of an opening door. The service elevat...r door eased open, and Moe hustled inside. ‘What will you tell Boch when he asks for her?’ The girl’s blood was drying on Dutch’s arm and shirt like an impressionist’s painting, and Dutch was carefully avoiding touching it. ‘I’ll think of something,’ he said. ‘Better spin it good.’ Dutch nodded and looked down at the caked blood on his stiff. He touched her breasts through her top and moved down to her legs. He could tell she was athletic but her skirt was too tight to reach up. They were getting sweaty and hot and he suggested they go to his place. She thought that she didn’t want to be somewhere she wasn’t familiar with and said, “No, let’s go to my place.” The ten minute drive seemed like forever. His hands on her knee and hers rubbing his hair behind his neck as she guided him to her house. He opened the door of his car for her. More

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