I hobble onto an obscure side street where my hollow footsteps die on the slick pavement. A neon sign of a woman’s contour sprays electric crimson a...cross the roadway. I can picture the ambulances surrounding the scene of a vehicular manslaughter incident. A doctor sips from a beverage container while examining a lacerated carcass. He yawns and rakes stiff fingers through hair that no longer exists. ‘There’s an accident every week on this damn street. I swear, I think the neon lights blind the. “Not bad.” “Not fucking bad?? You cheeky bastard.” She growled.“Ok.” I said, smiling. “Fucking stunning actually.”“That is better. Now let’s have a feel of this monster. How long is it?” She asked, stepping toward me and wrapping the long, slender fingers of her right hand around the middle of my shaft.I didn’t answer; instead I pushed my right hand between her legs, sliding my fingers through her thick long bush in search of her pleasure button. It wasn’t hard to find as it was already erect. Sometimes she felt she needed just to spend a little time by herself, thinking about what she had learned but today she felt independent, and just wanted to do what she wanted to do.She made her way to Cambridge Circus. It was only five minutes walk from the Tea Parlour but it was, at least, a change of scene. It was pedestrianised now and used as a venue for New Order rallies. The intelligence services were rumoured to have their offices almost opposite. Just around the corner, in Old Compton. I decided to follow them even though I didn't feel right doing it. I kept my distance as they went from store to store. Nothing seemed out of place. Just two women shopping. So I went home, wondering if it just might have been me.In the coming weeks I listened in on phone conversations, checked e-mails and just kind of watched Carrie. She still acted peculiar but I didn't see any big differences. We did make love a little more often but not way out of the ordinary. I was starting to feel bad.