" Because it will leave them permanently damaged and I have a gut feeling something isn't right." Tristan looked at his hands resting on the cold desk... "Why kill three of your senior politicians and their aids?" Tristan paused for a moment. "It doesn't add up."There were footsteps outside. Tristan and Da'ren turned to face the door, straightening themselves in their chairs. A tall Sicceian entered, hands manacled and a collar round his neck fastened to a pole held by a burly guard. They sat him. ‘Ah, good,’ I think, ‘its not work-related.’ I long to touch you and I do so, running my fingers over your bare shoulders and down your chest.In response, your fingers clasp my wrist, and squeezing firmly, lift my hand away. Your other hand gestures impatiently, signalling ‘leave me alone’. I am miffed by your response, I admit it. I pull my hands away and move around the chair to straddle your legs, trapping them between my own. You give me an intense almost-glare and continue your. More

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