"Are you Sally?" I asked, remembering.Her face suddenly softened. "Elizabeth?" Of course," I told her. "I'm Martha. All under control. Give me your ba...gage."She yielded up her luggage and followed me up the stairs. "I'd expected someone older," she said, "I've eaten your meals. They were delicious."I had to laugh. But suddenly I felt very kindly towards this weary innocent."C'mon. Bath and a drink? Champagne on offer?"And so I watched her transform herself from a small and weary waif into a. But I held on. "After all," I said, "if you can draw it, why don't you feel it?" And I moved up her leg quickly, stopping at a midpoint on her thigh.She flustered, her game called, and tried to pull my hand away. But then she stopped, probably realizing that nobody was watching us in that back row where we were all alone, and she just turned on a little smile for me.She was a slut. I knew she was. That's the way they all behave. They lead you on with a lot of teases, then play hard to get if. More

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