They didn't even notice I was there, didn't care that I would hear." Shit, sounds bad. I'm Jacob by the way, Jacob McArthur." Michelle Booker. Or maybe not, depending on today."We spent the morning talking. She lived in Norfolk, out near the broads. She'd managed to get the last train into London last night and had been wandering around since the early hours and was pretty much doped up on Red Bull. I cornily mentioned that it didn't look like she'd lost any beauty sleep, she smiled at me.Just after midday, her number came up. We arranged to meet up once we'd finished so we could open our letters together.My number came up a few minutes later and I made my way up to the door at the end of the room, where I was directed into a small, grey, office. Behind the desk was a small, colourless woman. Her hair was neat and fussily arranged with clips. Her face was neat, subtlety made up and completely unremarkable, topped off by small horn-rimmed glasses. She wore a grey suit that did its. We arranged to meet at a chain restaurant.When I arrived at the restaurant, Susan was already there, ensconced in a booth, on the phone, doing business, papers spread out in front of her and a carafe of wine half gone. We greeted with a quick kiss as she hurried to finish her call. Then she put the phone aside, gathered up the documents and spreadsheets on the table and dumped them into her leather satchel. Then she picked up the carafe and emptied it into the wine glass in front of me.“Business sucks. I’m done for today,” she said, and sipped her wine. “How are you doing, honey?”She looked different somehow. Still beautiful, but stressed.“I’m okay,” I replied. “How are you?”“Oh, I’m all right. Just sick and tired of the corporate bullshit,” she said. “But hey, I don’t want to bore you with all that. So, how’s college going this semester?”“It’s okay, same shit, different day.”We had dinner and some more wine and by six o’clock we were in the hotel room she had rented right across the.
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