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How’s Friday night sound?”It was now Wednesday morning. Tonight would have sounded better, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Friday sounds good,” I told her.I was sure the clocks around the world had all stopped sometime early Wednesday morning, then restarted at a painfully slow crawl. It seemed forever till Friday finally came. But it finally did and we were now standing on the porch of Leather’s house. Angela rang the bell.As before, the porch light went out and the door opened with an ominous creaking. We stepped inside.Leathers was standing there. He gave Angel a peck on the cheek and said, “Hi,” then turned to me. “Hey Sarah, how’ve you been?” He was no longer wearing his motorcycle helmet. This time he wore a cloth hood type mask with only his eyes, nose and mouth showing.I was feeling a bit nervous, but in a strange relaxed sort of way. “Been doing good,” I said. We all walked into the living room. And there my mouth suddenly went dry.Sitting on the sofa were two more guys,. "Do you think you could find this room again? If you get lost ask any of the servants for Madame Veronique Dyer's room, they all know it well. Her room is the one next to mine."We shared a last swift kiss, and returned upstairs.When I re-joined Billy Bassett in the ball room he made no comment, either on my absence or my rather flushed countenance. There was a stage at the far end of the ballroom, with two servants stood ready to draw back the swags to uncover the tableau. We engaged in small talk, with some of the other guests, until the first tableau was announced.'Aphrodite, Rising from the Sea. 'There was a great gasp of amazement from the room as the tableau was displayed. The centre piece was a woman — a veritable Amazon of a woman, at least two yards tall, and with a physique to match her height. She had the shoulders of a coal heaver and the thighs of a prize-fighter. Her hair was the colour of a fox's brush, and great tawny coils of it fell to her waist — partly — but only.
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