The dagger’s sharp tip pierced the canvas with a rasping whisper. With patience, I cut down, working through the thick cloth. My knife whisked. I pa...sed after each sawing stroke, listening to the snoring. It stayed the same. Inch-by-inch, my blade sliced downward, making my entrance into the tent.Finished, the cloth swayed, loose.I crept through the hole and crouched just inside. Movement froze me. In the corner, a form uncurled, painted in the light from a small lantern hanging from the tent’s. She’d never been bothered with things like this when Roger lived with her. Perhaps it might have made a difference if she had. Gerry liked the texture and look of erotic lingerie, though Heather wasn’t sure if she were a man she might not prefer total nudity. It wasn’t as if men ever dressed in such things. Well, not normally. Although since Roger left she’d learnt that what was apparently normal and what men actually got up to were not necessarily the same things. Heather spun around on the. More

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