The topic concerned thequestion of whether white woman who had black loversshould tell their white partners. I closed down and put the laptop away. I ...went into thebedroom and sat on the bed. I had to think. Was Isabelplaying away with a black lover? Or was it all aninnocent fantasy? But the frequent and extended joggingsessions, her desire to know in advance when I wasgoing out, her constant pressure on me to go out evenwhen I hadn’t planned to, her new-found interest indressing younger. If you could make five million on the deal, that leaves plenty of cash to generate false documents.’‘Yes, I see your point. I don’t actually know anyone who would do that but I’m sure they exist. I’ve heard rumours of someone in Marbella and another in ... Mauritius ... or was it Seychelles. Well somewhere down there.’‘Well if we’re lucky it will be Marbella, though I doubt that. Mr Betts seems to be avoiding places where we can easily get to him.’‘Well, it sounds like you’ve got it under. She whispered to me “Mom’s home. Oh Shit! Oh Shit! Oh Shit!” She scrambled around the room trying to pick up her clothing and at the same time get dressed. It was proving hard for her. I enjoyed the view as she struggled to get her top on and at the same time to pull her jeans over the leg. The two just could happen together and resulted in her falling headlong across the floor. The noise attracted my mother.“What’s going on up there?” She shouted up the stairs, immediately followed by the fall. “Must go, sorry…..and you…..take care, you.” In an instant that voice took him back to L'Auditori in Barcelona, several years before. Vividly he saw legs, and thighs. In his mind he played that scene again, savouring the feeling he had felt in his loins as his eyes ran up those legs and over those thighs. It was as if time had stood still. He was aware of the stage lights shining down as he watched, mesmerised by those legs. Her body gyrated in time with the rhythm she was playing on.