“Unless you were planning on doing shots of necrophilia today, we don’t have a model.” “She didn’t show?” “No, she’s here. She’s passed out in the back.” “Ok, who can we call?” “Danielle’s already on it, but I don’t know who’s available.” You sighed and left the room to talk to Danielle. I wandered around the studio which seemed much larger without you. You seemed to fill every bit of it when you were shooting, but now it was just a big, beautiful room with fabric draped over furniture and falling to the floor. Sumptuous and sensual, you had called it when I moved things the way I wanted them before the models or clients arrived. It was a welcoming place that made it easy for the ladies, and men sometimes, to feel free to express themselves and their sexuality. I picked up the embroidered scarf I had draped over the chair and wrapped it around myself, imagining wearing nothing else as I twirled in front of you. I walked over to the cheval mirror and turned it so I could see. ”“You’re welcome,” he said. “I assume that was a thank you for saving your wretched hide Sunday.”“It was,” I moaned. “And for saving Riley.”“That was an unexpected bonus. She is one hot...” he broke off. “Sorry. Strictly business. I thought you’d like to know what was in the truck.”“Do tell,” I said. “We had theories.”“Well did any of them have to do with the upcoming release of a major computer operating system?” he asked. We’d definitely been a little slow on that one. “There was, at first calculation, twenty-two million dollars worth of counterfeit software in that truck. It became obvious that they weren’t taking it anywhere. They just drove back and forth from Seattle to Spokane. The one time they actually unloaded, it was at an interstate rest area where they transferred goods from one truck to another. We finally pulled both trucks over because if they kept splitting it up, we’d never have enough people to follow all of them. The drivers were very cooperative. They hadn’t.
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