Part 2
I couldn’t help but grin. She was a very good looking girl with dark curls that she kept cut short, caramel skin and a sleight figure, and definitely Arabic, which meant to me that she was strictly conservative. Especially with that headscarf.
I decided this could be fun and hesitated suggestively, looking around. The table was perched on the corner outside Lambretta’s, a small club at night and a washed out coffee shop by day, on North Parade just two blocks down the road from the copshop. You can find it on Googlemaps.
She waited patiently then looked away, with a resigned look on her face. I felt instantly that I was losing her and spoke quickly.
“Maybe. I’m not sure what you want. It’s not something I carry around on me, you understand? What is it you want, Sweetheart?” Now that I had let her know I had what she was looking for…I could wind up. Let’s play a little with the sugarplum.
Aaah! The coffee was good this morning.
Her accent was soft but she knew what she wanted. “I’m looking for a key.” A kilo.