where we talk.'
That makes two of us.'
Marler stood with his hands on his hips, his mind racing as she unlooped her shoulder bag, dropped it on the dressing table. She reached for the hairbrush he was holding. 'May I? I look a mess.'
She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair vigorously, watching him in the mirror. Putting the brush down, she turned, put her arms round his shoulders, clasped her hands behind his neck and kissed him on the mouth, pressing her strong body into his.
'To what do I owe this honour?' Marler enquired as she pulled her head away from his, still grasping his neck. He watched her greenish eyes, his expression bleak and showing no excitement. She arched her thick eyebrows, half-closed her eyes, presenting to him her open front. Marler remained still, without reacting. Let her make the running. Her right hand slid inside his robe, felt his naked chest, moved down.
'I took a fancy to you when I saw you at Zea. I thought that you'd taken a fancy to me. You did wave.'
Her English was perfect. Her technique for rousing a man was good. The roving hand took its time. She gave him her slow smile again. Then she removed the hand, used it to take off her earrings, tossing them on to the dressing table.
'We won't be needing those, will we?'
'If you say so.'
'The cool calm Englishman. I love them . . .'
Standing away from him, still facing him, she undid her blouse, threw it on the floor. She wore nothing underneath it. She watched for the effect she was creating as she undid her denims, slid them down her legs, threw them on top of the blouse. She kicked off her flat-heeled shoes, shoes fit for running in, for moving around with the least possible noise, Marler noted. He raised both hands, palms towards her, rested them on her bare shoulders and threw her back on the bed. Dropping his robe, he followed her, lying on top of her as she giggled and wriggled.
'My name is Christina,' she said ten minutes later as they lay side by side.
'Christina What?'
Marler lit a cigarette he didn't really want, stared at the ceiling as she pressed against him, the black mane spread over the pillow.
'Does it matter? Tell me something about the man I have just made love with.'
'I am training to be a newspaper reporter. I was in insurance before. Bored the hell out of me.'
'And what story are you working on at the moment?' She snuggled closer, her hand splayed on his flat hard stomach.
This and that.' He leaned on his elbow, stared down at her and his expression was grim. 'I like to know who I've played with. Christina What?' he repeated.
'Does it matter?' She pouted.
He jumped off the bed, told her to stand up. Puzzled, she got to her feet. She faced him, then gave the same slow smile.
'What is your relationship with Petros?' he demanded. 'Did he send you?'
'Petros? If I am going to be cross-questioned I can get that at police headquarters like you . . .'
She stooped to reach for her clothes. Marler grasped her by her strong pointed chin, stood her erect. 'I answered your question, now you answer mine.'
'I am going ...'
Marler raised his right hand and hit her hard across the side of her face with the fiat of his hand. She reeled under the blow, fell back on the bed. Her eyes blazed. He saw now they were black with greenish flecks. She leapt to her feet. Before she could speak he hit her again on the other side of her face, the blow harder. She now had two red weals. She leapt up again, came for him with clawed hands. She had become a raging wildcat. He grasped both wrists before the fingers tore his face, forced them downwards. She aimed a knee at his groin. He turned sideways, took the thrust on his thigh, dropped both hands suddenly, then hit her with real force. She sagged on to the bed, glaring up at him.
'What is your relationship with Petros Gavalas? You're going to answer before you leave. I didn't invite you here . . .'
'Why don't you go and . . . yourself?'
She no longer spoke her perfect
That makes two of us.'
Marler stood with his hands on his hips, his mind racing as she unlooped her shoulder bag, dropped it on the dressing table. She reached for the hairbrush he was holding. 'May I? I look a mess.'
She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair vigorously, watching him in the mirror. Putting the brush down, she turned, put her arms round his shoulders, clasped her hands behind his neck and kissed him on the mouth, pressing her strong body into his.
'To what do I owe this honour?' Marler enquired as she pulled her head away from his, still grasping his neck. He watched her greenish eyes, his expression bleak and showing no excitement. She arched her thick eyebrows, half-closed her eyes, presenting to him her open front. Marler remained still, without reacting. Let her make the running. Her right hand slid inside his robe, felt his naked chest, moved down.
'I took a fancy to you when I saw you at Zea. I thought that you'd taken a fancy to me. You did wave.'
Her English was perfect. Her technique for rousing a man was good. The roving hand took its time. She gave him her slow smile again. Then she removed the hand, used it to take off her earrings, tossing them on to the dressing table.
'We won't be needing those, will we?'
'If you say so.'
'The cool calm Englishman. I love them . . .'
Standing away from him, still facing him, she undid her blouse, threw it on the floor. She wore nothing underneath it. She watched for the effect she was creating as she undid her denims, slid them down her legs, threw them on top of the blouse. She kicked off her flat-heeled shoes, shoes fit for running in, for moving around with the least possible noise, Marler noted. He raised both hands, palms towards her, rested them on her bare shoulders and threw her back on the bed. Dropping his robe, he followed her, lying on top of her as she giggled and wriggled.
'My name is Christina,' she said ten minutes later as they lay side by side.
'Christina What?'
Marler lit a cigarette he didn't really want, stared at the ceiling as she pressed against him, the black mane spread over the pillow.
'Does it matter? Tell me something about the man I have just made love with.'
'I am training to be a newspaper reporter. I was in insurance before. Bored the hell out of me.'
'And what story are you working on at the moment?' She snuggled closer, her hand splayed on his flat hard stomach.
This and that.' He leaned on his elbow, stared down at her and his expression was grim. 'I like to know who I've played with. Christina What?' he repeated.
'Does it matter?' She pouted.
He jumped off the bed, told her to stand up. Puzzled, she got to her feet. She faced him, then gave the same slow smile.
'What is your relationship with Petros?' he demanded. 'Did he send you?'
'Petros? If I am going to be cross-questioned I can get that at police headquarters like you . . .'
She stooped to reach for her clothes. Marler grasped her by her strong pointed chin, stood her erect. 'I answered your question, now you answer mine.'
'I am going ...'
Marler raised his right hand and hit her hard across the side of her face with the fiat of his hand. She reeled under the blow, fell back on the bed. Her eyes blazed. He saw now they were black with greenish flecks. She leapt to her feet. Before she could speak he hit her again on the other side of her face, the blow harder. She now had two red weals. She leapt up again, came for him with clawed hands. She had become a raging wildcat. He grasped both wrists before the fingers tore his face, forced them downwards. She aimed a knee at his groin. He turned sideways, took the thrust on his thigh, dropped both hands suddenly, then hit her with real force. She sagged on to the bed, glaring up at him.
'What is your relationship with Petros Gavalas? You're going to answer before you leave. I didn't invite you here . . .'
'Why don't you go and . . . yourself?'
She no longer spoke her perfect
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