“The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense.”  

T. Clancy  

   

Sam took another deep breath in. She didn’t feel quite hungry anymore. Apparently, being threatened to be locked up was all that she needed to put things into perspective. After all, the thought of the prison food almost made her gag, but the food wasn’t the important aspect that caused the sudden feeling of despair.    

She ought to go and to speak to Mr. Smith again, so soon after what had happened. She was scared that he would manage to make her feel so powerless yet again. However, one particular question popped up in her mind.    

Why Morpheus?    

Why is he so important that they have to put up with me in order to get to him?    

Yes, she knew some things about him. His favourite was breaking into the government files and stealing away the data on some certain people. Why? She didn’t know. There were more important things out there, or so she thought. Perhaps breaking into the banking systems and stealing the money from rich and greedy to give to the poor and needy, or at least that was Sam’s idea of what one should do with the abilities that they possessed.     

Whatever the reason Morpheus has to steal those files is the reason why they want him so bad.    

She concluded.    

And then it hit her, like it did every time when she thought about the infamous Morpheus for too long; the feeling of distortion. Music in her ears took an odd tune, turning almost metallic in its sound and it seemed like it was coming from very far away. She lifted her gaze to look around the bathroom only to realise that everything was... Tilted. Tilted and giving out a greenish tint. Nothing was how it was supposed to be and everything felt just so wrong.    

Sam shook her head and was quick to open the faucet, filling her hands with cool water and pressing her face into the small puddle that formed in her hands. She didn’t dare to look at herself in the mirror.    

Relax.    

She told her heart that beat ever so faster in her chest, almost threatening to jump out of her rib cage.    

She stood up straight and took a deep breath in.    

Breathe.    

She told herself and took a moment to concentrate on her shaky breaths, counting the seconds she needed to take a breath in and keep it in before releasing it out.    

The feeling freaked the hell out of her.    

Sadly, this is not the first time, nor it will be the last.    

Sam was certain of it.     

Too many times did the world around her seem unreal; sky like it was painted on, buildings two-dimensional, streets too long, light shimmering a green glow. Even people felt… Too far away. Sounds, smells; unfamiliar. The tips of her fingers vibrated upon a single touch, air seemed too thick…    

Derealization – that’s what her doctor had said – caused by stress and anxiety.    

She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, waiting.    

Once that everything seemed to fall back into its place and once the feeling of normality returned, she turned on her heels and marched outside, back into the cubicle’s area. She took another deep breath in and defiantly walked over the gray carpet, ignoring the looks that Adam and Rod gave her when she walked past their cubicles.    

It’s showtime.    

She bit at her lower lip when she knocked on the glass door.    

“Come in.” his voice called out.    

Here goes nothing.    

She opened the door and walked inside, softly closing it behind herself before she turned to face him.    

He sat at his table, obviously lost deep into the paperwork before him, but it took him less than a second to point her to sit in one of the big dark brown armchairs before his desk.    

“Miss Marshall.” was all that he said.    

Sam sat across from him, sinking deep into the soft fabric of the armchair, which took her by surprise. They had looked firmer and she had expected them to be hard and uncomfortable, but she wasn’t going to complain.    

“OK, so,” she started, feeling like she was just about to conjure up a trap for a friend, although she didn’t know the person at all; “Morpheus has a weak spot for stealing government files on personal data. I don’t know what he does with it, but that’s his jam. Whenever I wanted to break in the government files,” she watched Mr. Smith’s eyebrow rise ever so slightly on his forehead, making her slightly blush; “Morpheus was more than willing to accompany me.”.    

Mr. Smith considered her for a moment before he spoke: “We are aware of Morpheus’ love for government files. The question is, Miss Marshall, how do we catch him?”.    

Sam squirmed in the chair in order to try to find a more comfortable position, but she took a deep breath when she realised that the armchair was soft all over and returned her attention to the Agent’s eyes: “I might be able to have him agree to come and meet me, in order to plan out our attack. As long as the stakes are high enough.”.    

“And what would make the stakes high enough?” he asked.    

“It needs to be something good, something big. From what I’ve read from your files, Morpheus is searching for someone himself. If I tell him that I’m breaking into a very delicate softer system where this information is kept, he might be willing to meet up with me in order to conjure up a good code that will allow him, that will allow us to get into the system.”.    

Mr. Smith remained silent, looking at her intensely; “And who is the person that Morpheus wants?”.    

“I’ve no idea. But according to the ideas of your employees and what I’ve found in files, it’s a person with an alias Neo. We, I mean, I could tell him that I think that I've found Neo and that I too need to speak to him urgently. My business is my own, he doesn’t need to know my reasons, same as I don’t need to know his.”.    

“Do you not think that he might find this,” he made a small pause; “suspicious?”.    

“That’s why I was thinking of going to him and asking him for help, pretending that I don’t know that he needs Neo too.”.    

“And you are able to contact him?” he asked.    

“Yes, yes I am.” she said, although she knew that she couldn’t do it directly.    

Her best shot was to put out a word of what she was going to do and wait for him to contact her. That was the way they had connected before and it was sure to work now too.    

“Then that is all that we will need from you, Miss Marshall.”.    

Sam stopped for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise as she observed Mr. Smith’s face.    

“You’re telling me that all you need me to do is to contact him?”.    

“Yes.”.    

“Well, why didn’t you tell me this before?”.    

“I thought that I made myself clear.” he smacked his lips, not turning his eyes away from hers; Apparently not.”.    

“Well, if that’s all you need me to do, then let’s get on with it.” Sam said, feeling annoyance rise in her chest.    

“Not just yet, Miss Marshall. Not just yet.”.    

“This is bullshit.” she said and stood up to her feet, her eyes turning to slits; “I don’t understand why we need to wait for this, or, in fact, I don’t understand why we haven’t already done this. If this is all that you need and if this is what I need to get my freedom from you, I want it done!” she waved her fist at him.    

Mr. Smith seemed unfazed. He leaned back in his office chair, resting on the back of the chair before he lifted his elbows on the armrests, bringing the tips of his fingers together. He kept eye contact with her, but he said nothing.    

“I can't believe this.” Sam huffed; “You’re just playing with me. Well, no more!” she said and turned around, doing her best to leave the office as fast as she could.    

“Miss Marshall.” he called behind her, but she pretended like she didn’t hear him.    

Frustration built itself up high in her chest and anger almost spilled itself in the form of tears. She rushed to her cubical, stuffed her laptop in the bag and grabbed her phone before she bolted for the door. No one tried to stop her.    

As soon as she reached the bottom of the building, she felt a single tear escape her eye.     

This is bullshit!    

She thought, still feeling beyond angry.    

If that’s all that they needed, I could’ve been done with the assholes yesterday! How hard it is to put out a fake word of what I want to do in order to attract Morpheus’ attention? Bullshit!    

No one had ever managed to throw her off in pure anger like him before. This was new for her. Usually, nothing could ruin her day, but there was just something about this whole situation that kept catching her off guard.    

A drop of the rain fell on the top of her head, causing all of her rumbling thoughts and emotions to stop at once. She lifted her gaze to the darkening sky above her only to remember how much she loved the rain. All of a sudden, she knew where she needed to go and what she needed to do.  

A bus will do.    

___oOo___    

Sam walked into the big, lavish nightclub at the edge of the city. Although the front looked rich, the back told the true story of the club’s wealth. She didn’t mind, though, she wasn’t there to party.     

The bodyguard greeted her when she came to walk past him and she nodded in his direction, ignoring the calls of the people waiting in the line.    

“Come on, it’s not fair! We’ve been here for hours!” one said.    

“Yeah, she’s not even dressed up!” the other added.    

Sam ignored them and walked inside, the loud music instantly making her forget the worries she had had that day and everything that was happening on the outside. Nothing mattered anymore. The goal was clear as a day in her mind.    

She squeezed the straps of her bag in order to keep her laptop from bouncing to the sides. The place was already stuffed and people danced like there was no tomorrow. One wrong hit and her whole hardware could go to shit. She gritted her teeth while she battled her way through the already half-drunk crowd of dancing people. It all stank of sweat, booze and cigarettes, but Sam didn’t mind, she was almost there.    

She walked to the end of the dancing podium only to be met by another bodyguard who nodded in her direction too before he opened the big black door behind himself, allowing her to get inside.     

Sam was quick to slip past him, still squeezing at the straps of her bag. The door closed, muffling out the music and the cries of the crowd from behind. She came to a stop before she took a deep breath in. The dark room was illuminated by glowing led lights attached to the ceiling, making it look like the night’s sky, but the illumination only gave away the smoke that was building up in the room.    

“It stinks like ass in here!” she called out and stepped down the few stairs to find herself in the room’s opening.     

“Sup, Opu?” came a question from the bar; “What are you drinking?”.    

“Thanks, Rob, I’m fine for tonight.”.    

“Dab is waiting for you.” Rob said and pointed at the far end of the room.    

Sam followed his finger with her eyes when she heard him say; “Take this drink to him, would you?”.    

“Of course.” she said and turned to take the drink, knowing very well that she was holding the most expensive Kraken cocktail in her hands.    

That didn’t faze her.    

She walked past a few tables filled with computer geeks such as herself and Dab, observing the pale faces illuminated only by the computer’s screen or the light of the end of their cigarettes. A few rose their blank eyes to meet hers, but none took the time to say hello. It was just the way it was.    

“Ah, there you are!” came in a cheery voice; “Come, you need to see this.”.    

“Sure.” she said and lowered herself on the chair next to his, carefully placing the drink on the table in the process; “What do you have?”.    

“Look at this.” he said and highlighted the particular part of the code; “I can’t make this bit work. It's bugged to hell!”.    

“Hmm.” Sam considered the whole thing for a moment; “You’ve got a smoke?”.    

“Sure.” Dab said, not moving his eyes from the screen; “It’s there.” he motioned with a quick jerk of his head; “Help me out, will you?”.    

“I will.” she said; “But after you hear what I’ve come here to say.” she said while she reached for the cigarette and a lighter, bringing both to her lips before she took a deep drag in.    

“Later, this is important.” Dab said, still keeping his eyes glued to the screen.    

Sam sighed and quickly reached for the laptop, turning off the screen.    

“Hey!” Dab started to protest but she cut him off.    

“Dab, I’m in trouble.” she said and looked around her for a moment, lowering her voice down as much as she could; “The CAU is on my back.”.    

Dab’s eyes widened; “How did they - “.    

“I don’t know and it doesn’t matter right now. What I need you to do is to look at the certain virus for me.” she said and pulled out her laptop; “It’s a Trojan, your specialty.”.    

“Wha - “.    

“Don’t ask any questions, please. Just do this one for me and I owe you big time. Plus, I’ll help you fix that bug. I already know how.”.    

Dab kept his suspicious eyes on hers, discomfort visible on his face; “If the CAU -”.    

She cut him off yet again: “If you hurry up, they’ll never know that I was here.” she said and pushed her laptop into his arms.    

Dab muttered something to himself and quickly tapped all of his pockets, pulling something that resembled a USB stick out of one of them: “If you get me into trouble...”.    

“You don’t need me for that.” Sam giggled, remembering very well what had happened only some months ago.    

“Why is this so important anyway?” he asked while he plugged the USB into her laptop.    

“As I’ve said, no questions. The less you know, the better.” she said, not feeling ready to share what little she had known of the virus.    

The greenish glow of the virus reminded her of someone’s signature, and it was no other than the signature of Trinity, another alias that the CAU was searching for. Trinity obviously wasn’t as high on a list of priority as Morpheus was and it was obvious since the Agents didn’t really have much interest in Trinity’s virus. However, it intrigued the hell out of Sam. She had always admired whoever Trinity was. He was an amazing hacker in his own way. There was no wonder that Sam wanted to find out more about the Trojan when it came from one of her personal heroes.    

“Fine.” he said and was quick to transfer the virus to the stick, plugging it into his own laptop; “Let’s take a look.”.    

Sam watched him type for a while before he finally spoke up: “That’s odd.”.    

“What?”.    

“Trojans don’t usually ask you for a password to get inside. In fact, they’re the last thing that will have any sort of password encryption since they’re just sitting there and waiting to be opened.”.    

“What does this mean then?” Sam asked, feeling confused all of a sudden.    

“I’ve no idea. Do you perhaps have a password?”.    

“No, no I don’t. Let me see.” she said and pushed Dab to the side to better see the screen of his laptop.    

“Huh, that’s odd indeed.” she said, her eyes turning into slits as she observed the well-known green interface, the green Insert password flashing in a slow rhythm; “What if I think of a password, should I come back to see you?”.    

“Yeah, if you get any ideas, you know where to find me.”.    

“I’ve got an idea that you could try.” she said and Dab looked at her, placing his fingers above his keyboard; “I’m listening.".    

“Try Morpheus.”.    

Dab nodded and typed it in, pressing enter only to be met with an error message: “Wrong, you’ve got two more tries and then I don’t know what happens. I don’t know what this is, but this isn’t a Trojan.”.    

“It certainly did look like a Trojan.”.    

“Oh, it does look like it in every single way, but it isn’t. Still, you shouldn’t play around with it. If you manage to open it, well... We don’t know what’s inside of it.”.    

Sam stopped to think for a moment: “Still got that old laptop that you don’t use anymore?".    

“The fifteen inch one? Yeah.”.    

“Can I have it? If I think of the password, I’ll try to open it on the laptop, it has nothing of the value on it anymore, so even if it is some sort of weird shit, it won’t matter too much.”.    

Dab considered her for a moment: “Sure. I’ll bring it to your place tomorrow under one condition.”.    

“Yes?".    

“You don’t show your face here again until you’re rid of the CAU, understand?”.    

“Of course, big bro, of course.”.    

___oOo___    

Sam pushed her way through the dancing crowd when she thought better of it. Instead of going straight for the exit, she took a detour to the bar.     

“What can I get you?!” the bartender screamed over the overly-loud music that drummed throughout the whole place.    

“Put this away for me, will you?!” she screamed back, taking off her bag and giving it to him; “And get me double rum and coke!”.    

“Of course!” the bartender said, taking her bag in his hands and giving it to the new girl next to him, whispering something into her ear before he turned to make Sam a drink; “Here you go, Samantha!” he yelled as he offered her a drink.    

“It’s just Sam!” she yelled back while she gratefully took the drink in her hands.    

She hated when they called her Samantha, same as her brother hated to be called Charlie. Their parents really failed them with the stupid names. Sam shrugged her shoulders, unsure why she was thinking of that in the first place and was quick to down the drink, allowing the bitter-sweet taste to wash down her throat.     

She gave the glass back to the bartender: “Another one, please!”.    

He refilled her drink and, with this, Sam turned around to take a better look at her surroundings. Everyone was dressed up nicely, so to speak, so her black jeans and a large hoodie really didn’t fit into the picture. If nothing else, she really needed these drinks. She had a terrible couple of days. Then, her tune came on and she found herself nodding her head in the rhythm.    

Soon, she found herself dancing in ecstasy, not really caring for anyone around her. If nothing else, her brother had a good taste in music. Shame that he wasn’t out here with her to jam to their jam together.    

All of a sudden, she felt a couple of arms grab at her hips and, when she looked behind her, a cute guy had fallen into the dance with her. She didn’t mind and it wasn’t long before she finally felt like she could dance her worries away. The guy kept going back and forth for more drinks and, with each new drink, the whole room went fuzzier. With each new song that came on, she found herself having to close her eyes for a moment in order to shoo away the thoughts of what was going on in her life, but each time that she closed her eyes, Mr. Smith’s words would echo in her head.    

We know who you are.    

They danced and danced, him bringing over more drinks and then some more, all the way until she felt like she couldn’t stand on her feet anymore.    

Sam smiled at him and excused herself. She had had enough for one night. Alcohol buzzed in her veins and she struggled to push through the crowd. While her better judgement was still present, she decided to leave her laptop with the bartender just in case. The last thing she needed was to lose her balance somewhere outside only to smash it.     

She noticed just how intoxicated she was once she walked out of the back door of the club, having to put her hand to the wall to keep herself steady.    

“Woah.” she managed and swayed in the spot, knowing that she had made the right decision leaving her laptop behind.    

Her ears buzzed and her whole head felt like it was going to explode. She almost felt nauseous. In her drunken state, she started to pat her pockets, hoping that she remembered to steal her brother’s cigarette pack again as she usually did. A smoke would come in handy right about now.    

“Want a smoke?” came a voice from behind her and she turned around only to see the same guy she had danced with approaching her.    

“Yeah.” she muttered and waited for him to hand her one; “Thanks.”.    

“No problem.” he said, pulling one out for himself and lighting it before he offered her the lighter too.    

“So,” he said once she took a deep drag in, closing her eyes in the process; “We didn’t have the chance to speak. I’m Greg.”.    

“Sam.” she said, not really feeling interested in having a conversation with him.    

More than anything, she just wanted to sober up in the cool night’s air before she would head home. She didn’t know the time and didn’t want to know it. It was good as long as she wouldn’t be late for work again.    

Goosebumps appeared all over her body when she remembered Mr. Smith. She took in another deep drag and closed her eyes only for Mr. Smith’s face to appear before her closed eyelids. She winced.    

Sam dreaded going back to work.    

Work. Yeah. Right.    

She thought to herself bitterly.    

I’m just a toy for them. They don’t really need me, do they? But why would they then allow me to join them? If all they need from me is to contact Morpheus... Why aren’t we done with it already?    

Angry emotion started to build up in her chest again and she exhaled the smoke which she didn’t even notice that she held in her lungs for as long as she did. That was a mistake since the smoke made her lose the little control she had left on her balance. She swayed in the spot, holding onto the wall like she was holding for her dear life.    

She noticed the guy take a look behind him and to his side before he turned to her: “Do you need help? Where are you headed?”.    

“No, that’s quite alright, thanks.” she thanked him, hoping that he would take a hint and leave her alone.    

“Come, I’ll help you.” he insisted and, in a moment, his arm was around her waist.    

“I said no!” she exclaimed, trying to push him away, but failing.    

“You can barely stand. Let me call you a taxi at least.” he said.    

Sam stopped for a moment and lifted her eyes to his. She wanted to try and read his facial expression, but she realised that she couldn’t. She was way too drunk.    

“Okay.” she managed; “I could use a taxi.”.    

“Give me a moment.” he said, pulling out his phone with his free hand while he still kept the other arm around her waist.    

Sam held onto the wall and onto him, feeling her legs completely giving up beneath her. She needed that taxi, and she needed it now.    

“OK.” the guy said; “It’ll be there in a few minutes.” he said and pointed his finger down the dark alleyway leading to the road.    

Sam was about to speak when he pulled her in that direction, not really leaving her with any other options but to follow. All that alcohol really started to kick in, but something still felt very wrong.    

“Let her go.” came in a growl.    

Sam recognised the stern and authoritative voice.    

How the...?    

“I’m taking my girlfriend home, back off.” the guy said.    

Sam’s eyes widened and she was just about to speak when the growl came back: “I said, let her go.”.    

“I was just helping her get the taxi, sir!” the guy muttered, letting go of her in an instant.    

Sam felt both grateful and pissed off because, as it was evident, she couldn’t stand on her own, so her legs gave out and she fell to the floor.    

“Ouch!” she cried from down there.    

“Leave, now.” the voice was still filled with the growlish undertone, firm and dangerous and, only seconds later, she heard the footsteps passing by her before their echo died off in the distance.    

Sam managed to get herself into the sitting position on the floor, crossing her legs and placing her hands on her knees. She tried to lift her head up, but she couldn’t. She felt way too nauseous and drunk, or way too weak to do anything. Instead, she watched a couple of shiny black leather shoes approach her from the dark.    

“Miss Marshal.” Mr. Smith said, coming to a halt before her; “How fortunate for you that I knew where to find you.”.    

Sam laughed.     

‘How fortunate for you that I knew where to find you.’ she repeated in a mocking tone inside of her head, or at least she hoped that she did repeat it only in her head. She couldn’t be certain.    

She was perhaps supposed to be grateful for his presence. After all, there was something wrong with that guy.     

“Thank you.” she managed.    

Also, how stupid was it that she got caught partying after running away from work?    

Pretty stupid.    

“Can you stand up?” came a question in a leveled voice to which she had an answer to.    

“Nope. I don’t think that I can move at all for that matter.” she told him honestly, feeling her limbs going number with each passing moment.    

She watched the unmoving shoes before her, still trying her best to lift her head, when she heard a deep sigh. In a swift motion, Mr. Smith kneeled next to her and grabbed her by the waist, using his other hand to put her arm over his shoulders.    

Her eyes were wide in shock. She didn’t expect him to do this. In all honesty, she thought that he was going to call her a taxi and leave her there himself. She was nothing but an embarrassment in the state that she had found herself in and, after everything that had happened that day, she didn’t expect him to try and find her in the first place, let alone help her pitiful self.     

To be fair, why is he here in the first place?    

The question echoed in her head when she heard him say: “Are you ready?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer before he tightened his grip around her and slowly started to stand up, lifting her with his strength alone.    

This took her aback. She had no strength in her legs whatsoever. It was all him. He was ridiculously strong.     

How the...?    

As soon as they came to stop in a standing position, Sam felt a huge wave of nausea overtake her. She swiftly managed to bring her hand to her mouth in order to cover it, hoping that she would suppress vomit from coming out of it.    

The last thing I need today is to vomit on his fancy suit. He would hate me forever.    

Mr. Smith remained in an upright position for a moment longer, almost as if he knew that she felt sick. He waited for a moment before he took step forward. Sam tried to do the same, but she couldn’t. Her body felt like it was getting paralysed more and more with each passing moment.    

“Something’s wrong.” she managed.    

“You have been drugged.” Mr. Smith said.    

“How do you know?” she asked him, still fighting away the urge to be sick.    

All of a sudden, Sam felt the warmth of his fingers brush her hair away from her face before his fingers found their way to her chin. Before she managed to speak or react, he lifted her face to his, exposing her to the light. She blinked both in surprise and in order to hide her burning eyes away from the blinding light.    

“Your eyes.” he said.     

Her head seemed to fix itself in the place it found itself in and she was unable to move, leaving her with only one option. She found herself observing him closely. After all, that was all that she could do in her drunken and obviously drugged state.     

She lifted her gaze only to find herself watching the lines on his sharp face, lifting her eyes over his lips to his sunglasses’ hidden eyes.    

“Your eyes.” she repeated after him.    

“Hm?” he asked in confusion.    

“I mean, you’re wearing sunglasses, and it’s the middle of the night.”.    

He retracted his hand from her face, making her realise that she didn’t even notice the prolonged contact, and moved it to his, removing sunglasses in a swift motion, revealing his stunning, piercing blue eyes to the yellow glow of the shitty street lamp. How she managed to keep her head up, she didn’t know.     

She found herself being drawn to his ever piercing eyes and, before she started to stare like an idiot at them, she blinked a few times and allowed her eyes to continue scanning his sharp features, falling to the edges of his jawline and following up to his ear. Then was when she noticed it; his earpiece was not in there, rather, it was hanging on the side of his shirt. He was officially off duty.    

Why is he here in his free time?    

“You don’t have to do this.” she finally managed after a very pregnant pause.    

Mr. Smith huffed: “And what am I supposed to do? Leave you out here for runners to find you?”.    

“Huh?” she managed.    

She wasn’t certain if she had heard him correctly and what exactly he had meant by that, but it probably didn’t matter. She was too wasted to pay much attention anyway.    

“I will help you get home.” he said; “Can you walk?”.    

“No.” Sam admitted, feeling very embarrassed of herself.     

In a swift motion, Mr. Smith picked her up into his arms and he did it with incredible ease.    

Woah!    

She felt like a feather in his embrace.    

Well, this is... Unexpected.    

“Mr. Smith!” she exclaimed; “People usually do this after the wedding, not beforehand!” she muffled her own laughter.    

An annoyed growl came from his throat and it snapped her back to the memory of what they had talked about earlier that day.    

“S- sorry.” she muttered; “I’ll control myself, I promise.” the heat started rising in her cheeks.    

“Where is your laptop?” he asked her, obviously willing to let this slide, or, perhaps, because he wanted to change the subject and get on with it.    

“With the bartender.” she had to put in an effort to answer him and she noticed that she started to slur her words.     

Mr. Smith nodded his head and pushed on, carrying her in her arms almost as if she was a child, not a grown woman. She wasn’t all that much shorter than him, so his strength was really surprising. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her eyes were still glued to his face and, after a moment of quiet, he looked at her quizzically. She just closed them and pretended that nothing had happened. She didn’t even notice herself staring to begin with.    

With her eyes now closed, she tried to focus on different aspects of him; the pure hardness of his body and muscles, his strong heartbeat and slow, steady breathing.    

With each step that he took, Sam found herself wondering more and more about him.    

I’m too fucked for this.    

She felt his muscles tense and squeeze once he started to lower her inside of the car. As soon as he left her sitting there, her body ached for something. It ached for the warmth, strength and security of his embrace and she didn’t understand why.    

I’m wasted.    

She thought.    

There is no other explanation.    

“I will be back in a moment, Miss. Marshall.” he said.    

She wanted to reply, but she found that she couldn’t. All that she could do was to stay there and watch him leave.    

Huh, nice butt.    

She thought while she observed him walk away, giggling to herself.