"If you're in later, I'll tell you all about it." I looked down at myself and back up at her again, managing a smile. "After I've got dressed?" Sheila...frowned slightly; looking concerned at the tone of my voice I guess. Then she brightened and lifted her hand to waggle several envelopes at me."I'm off to the post office and then to the corner shop. I'll be back in half an hour. I'll give you a knock then. D' you want anything fetching?" I thanked her and said I didn't.Sheila trotted off. I smiled to myself, I love thunderstorms, lighting and especially rain. I noticed I had quite a few messages on my phone. It seemed I had been gone longer than I thought. I needed to figure out how far from home I was. I saw a gazebo and decided to walk to it. I needed to let everyone know I was ok and I would be home in a ..mmhh maybe a few hours. I guessed it would take me awhile to get back. "I'd better see if anyone is available to come get me," I thought, "There is definitely a storm. There had been an indication of this the night before, when after seeing Fran and Connie (Gabby, who worked for a public relations firm, was away for a couple of days seeing clients in Germany) I had phoned Yvonne to make sure she had got home safely. During quite a long conversation in which she told me more about her circumstances and her poverty-stricken family in Zambia, she had still addressed me as ‘sir’ throughout. Now she was under control a word from me would have got her to switch to. Miss Penelope was very polite, very unlike the woman that had taken his 'cherry' while he was tied down. He would have been more assured if she hadn't sent him those weekly pictures. He knew what she wanted, but felt powerless to prevent it.The limousine was there at 12 sharp. The chauffeur opened the door for him and handed him an envelope. Roger was wearing a sport coat and slacks. His sport coat was emblazed with the symbol of one of the most prestigious men's clubs in London. Actually, all.
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