What do you think spies are: priests, saints and martyrs? They’re a squalid procession of vain fools, traitors, too, yes; pansies, sadists and drunk...rds, people who play Cowboys and Indians to brighten their rotten lives. Do you think they sit like monks in London, balancing the rights and wrongs? I’d have killed Mundt if I could, I hate his guts; but not now. It so happens that they need him. They need him so that the great moronic mass you admire can sleep soundly in their beds at night. They. This … is … bliss. Liz senses that I’m on the cusp, and just as I begin the moment of ‘no going back now’, she slips a finger deep into my arse and I scream out as never before and tears stream down my cheeks. Tears of pleasure. Tears of joy and yes, tears of guilt. Liz stays still. Nothing is said and for a few moments, I doze off with her body still pressing into mine. “I enjoyed that,” she says. “You enjoyed it?” I splutter, “Your turn now.” Still firmly in charge, she slides off me and. More

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