The Mentor by Steve Jackson

Author:Steve Jackson [Steve Jackson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007380411
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers

26

My eyes ache from squinting through the binoculars and my face aches from being stuck behind the latex. I can’t wait to get back to Fogarty’s and get the bloody thing off. A check of my watch and another quick look-see. I’ve got a good view from Clive’s, a hundred yards or so in each direction. Can’t see any cops skulking behind the trees and walls, no suspicious cars cruising the neighbourhood. My gut’s telling me it’s not a trap, and as an early warning system my gut has served me well over the years. In fact, I can’t remember a time when it’s let me down. I gather my stuff together, carefully pick up the shopping bag and head outside. I fight the urge to jog across the road, telling myself that I’m a fossil, and fossils don’t jog. Shuffling along is fine, but jogging is a definite no-no.

I place the bag on the doorstep, get the spare key from its hidey hole underneath Mr Rabbit, the stone bunny that guards the scrap of dirt she calls a garden. In my book, a straggly rose bush and a scraggy collection of weeds does not constitute a garden. The lock is stiff and I have to rattle the key to get it in. There’s a knack to it, but I’ve had plenty of practice. A flick of the wrist and I’m in. She’s standing at the end of the hall, gaping at me as though I’m a complete stranger – which, thanks to Fogarty’s magic fingers, I am – wondering what the hell I’m doing in her flat.

‘Careful, you might catch a fly,’ I tell her.

She closes her mouth, opens it again. ‘Mac …? Is that you?’

‘Expecting someone else?’ I pick my way through the junk in the hall, past the cardboard boxes, the rusty old bicycle, the chest of drawers. She takes a step back when I get to her and I wonder how much she knows. Her clothes are baggy, hiding her glorious curves, and providing plenty of hiding places for a weapon. I’ve tried to persuade her to wear tighter clothes, more revealing clothes, and from time to time she indulges me, but only when we’re alone.

‘What have you done to your face?’ she asks.

‘Do you like it?’ She’s close enough to touch me, but doesn’t. She stands staring, arms pinned rigidly to her sides. Normally she would have dragged me into the bedroom by now. I’d be flat on my back, trousers around my ankles, whether I liked it or not. She’s a howler, someone who doesn’t mind the neighbours hearing. Not the best I’ve had, not the worst, either. What she lacks in artistry, she more than makes up for in enthusiasm.

‘So,’ I say, ‘are you going to stand there gawking all day or what?’

She comes to me, hugs me. A quick peck is all I get; there’s no passion in the kiss. I take the opportunity to work my hands up and down her body, slowly, sensually.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.