” Helena rose and accepted his hand as he then guided her towards a drinks cabinet. “Now, I wouldn’t ordinarily suggest this, but you look like ...ou could use a drink to calm your nerves. Wine?” Helena’s mind screamed, “No booze! Basic rules of staying in control. No booze!”, but her face betrayed her relief and her hands were soon clasping a glass of Pinot Noir and eagerly sipping it as she got to know Jack. Judging by the bulge in Jack’s pants, she figured things were going to get. He hesitated slightly before making his move. What language did she speak? Was she German? French? She certainly wasn't American. No American would seem so at ease sitting by herself. Perhaps she was Russian. They were such mysterious people, with a similar half-amused expression on their faces. And the women were famous for their enthusiastic sexuality, although having only once tasted foreign flesh, and that a slightly podgy Belgian girl he'd picked up at the Jemaa El Fna, he had nothing with. More

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