KLEMPNERMitch's cheeks are flushed apple-red, and her eyes are shining. "What an amazing place.""It's called Aleksanterinkatu, but this time of year they call it the Christmas Street....""I can see why." ".... The local stores have a kind of unofficial competition to outdo each other with the lights and shop displays."She sips at creamy broth, fragrant with fish and dill. "So, when you say you speak enough Finnish to get by, how much are we talking about?""Oh, don't be too impressed. Very little. The bare basics.""Do you speak many languages? You said you travel a lot....""I'm only really fluent in English, French and Portuguese. But that gets you by in most of the world. There's not too many places where you don't find someone who speaks English. Well.... American at least...."She laughs. "American?"I lean in, lowering my voice as though imparting wisdom. "Across much of the world, the locals learn English from the TV, so it's mainly from American cop pro

CHARLOTTEThe weather is brisk. It will turn icy as night draws in: perfect to clear my fuddled head and muddled feelings. For a few minutes, we just walk together, me stepping out smartly to keep up with my Master's long-legged stride. Despite his slight limp, he can still set a tidy pace. But it keeps me warm. I'd not dressed for the weather, expecting to be in my office most of the day. In his long overcoat, I don't think my Master notices the cold, but I'm grateful to keep moving.The direction feels random, but we find ourselves walking down streets brightly lit in red and green. Tinny music drifts from some stores, Christmas carols from others."How are you feeling now?" His gaze slants to mine."Much better. Master?""Mmm?""What happened after I left?""Um, let's see. It came out that Ben is apparently seeing Kirstie's sister, Erin, now. Kirstie threatened to... what were her words? To 'have Ben for horse-meat' if he ever raised a hand to Erin."I halt in mid-st

KLEMPNERWe lie together, both wearing the ridiculous pyjamas. Never in my life have I wanted a woman the way I want this one. I'm lying on my back and have a screaming erection, but I rumple the blankets to conceal it.She's a professional....She knows....Mitch rolls onto her side to face me. "Larry...""Hmmm?""You said.... You said that you wanted me to want...."Hope flutters inside my chest. I roll onto my side too, our faces close. "Larry, I want you to touch me."My groin jolts.Propping myself up on an elbow to look slightly down on her, I cup her cheek with my palm. Inside, I'm shaking; short of breath. Something pulses inside my ears.How do I do this?She echoes my gesture, reaching up to caress the side of my face, her fingers digging in slightly, guiding me to her, my mouth to hers, my lips to hers. Our lips touch. Her flesh is warm on mine, her breath fresh; a little minty.Mitch's fingers slide from my cheek and into my hair, pulling me close

KLEMPNERShe lowers herself carefully into the water but at the last moment, loses her footing on the slippery base and sploshes down. From my place at the other side of the large bath, I pass her a flute of champagne.She's put up her hair to be clear of the water, twisting it high on her head and pinning it into elaborate bronze coils. Her neck is beautifully displayed; the curve from shoulder to her sculpted jawline and cheekbones. Even naked, she is elegant.She smiles and sips. "Bubbles outside and bubbles inside," she laughs, tilting her glass to me. She has a point. Foam streams over her neck and shoulders and breasts, white against the gleam of her wet skin."If you tell me that champagne bubbles get up your nose," I say, "I'll mark you down as unoriginal.""I'll not say that, then." She wrinkles her nose and sticks out her tongue then, with a flick of her fingers, swishes froth over me and into my own glass, giving me an unrepentant twinkle of the eye as I scoop soap

JAMESThe alert icon flashes up on my screen, then within seconds a photo-message appears on my mobile, then another.Good girl....I open up the slave-link to Kirstie's computer and watch the video she has running. This time I have a ring-side view of the cafe window.A fair-haired man is sitting there. It's still indistinct, but it could be the same individual as from the previous poor image. I double check against the stills she sent from her phone then tap a message through.thnx kirstie, james here. sit tight and do nthng. am taking over your screenAnd now I have something real to work with. I re-centre on the face. A little basic cleaning-up, some refocusing and the image is bright and sharp and perfectly clear.I message her again. that the man?yesI zoom in, catching detail; several good clear shots of his face: weather-tanned features are framed by hair with a sun-bleached look. His shirt is open at the top by a couple of buttons showing part of what cou