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Martha even looked impressed. When he ran out of steam, Chris blushed and smiled sheepishly. I said, "I take it that you were pissed off?"That resulted in another burst of cussing. I don't know how long it ran, but I don't recall Chris ever repeating himself. I guess that this was possible because he cussed in three languages. That seemed to wring the last of his frustration out of him, because he looked at the two of us and said, "I guess that we will have to go to Plan B, though I don't know what Plan B is, yet."We spent a lot of time talking, the gist of the discussion was whether or not we wanted to take on an international drug ring. None of us really wanted to get involved in this heavy a commitment, but we also didn't want to walk away from it. We realized that we had a choice: we could go after the really big boys or we could stick with the small timers like the runner we had stumbled across.Martha brought up a point: maybe the whole of Gutierrez and McMichael Export and. I see fear. It has begun its creeping, spreading, all consuming journey through my body into my head. I turn away quickly not wanting to acknowledge it and step into the tub. I spend a very long time bathing, shaving myself smooth by habit as Master David requires. I wash my hair with my favorite scented soap. I begin to relax a little, to convince myself that I will be OK. Stepping out of the tub I dry with the large soft towels provided. I apply the softening scented oil I have used for years. I let my long hair dry naturally in waves. Still wrapped in the fluffy towel, I apply a touch of my cologne. I move back into the bedroom and sit in the large leather chair. Looking over at the bars, I wonder at the design of this room. Why was it built? Have others been here before me? What happened to them? My mind once again begins to work overtime. I go back to the gate and try to look out, but can see nothing. I walk to the liquor cabinet and examine the wines. My favorites of course,.
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