‘Why are you still in a towel?’ ‘What? You don’t like?’ Ian joked while running his fingers through his sexy dark hair. Hannah tried not to...blush. ‘Well, hell yeah’ She said. With a smirk on his face, Ian peered out the door, and heard his lover snoring from the other bedroom. ‘You wanna…?’ Ian said while leaning on the bed post. Hannah’s heart was pounding. She couldn’t believe what was happening! But what about her room mate? ‘W-what about Gina?’ Hannah quietly stammered. She wasn’t expect. In my scapegoat-seeking paranoia, I became fretful and impatient. A report came to me one day with the kind of evidence I had been half-expecting, and wholly dreading. Cheryl, my Home Office mole found that a certain Lady Margaret Hunter Phd. Cantab, had attended Parole Boards at Galloway Prison for several years as a consultant in criminal psychology, principally from late 1973 until very recently, just after the quaintly termed 'incident' in question. It was too much of a coincidence; too. More

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