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Within her line of sight, across the plaza, there were at least one hundred bodies. All dead. All with that same look of terror that the child had.Dahra staggered into the archeology museum, nearly tripping over the leg of another body that was inside the doorway. She staggered across the foyer, up the stairs, and down the hall, to her office. Everywhere she went, there were more bodies. More death.She found Krinan laying in the doorway of her office. Her head and torso in the hall, the rest in her office. Her colleague was wearing the same frumpy outfit she had worn six months ago, when they had that hostile confrontation. Krinan's eyes stared blankly down the hall at Dahra, as she approached her.Dahra couldn't bear to touch the body of her former friend and rival. She inched down the hall, with her back to the wall opposite Krinan, stepping over an outreached hand. She then ran down the hall and round the corner to her office. Dahra tried to open the door, but her hands were. He knows why he married me so why does he wind me up? His last words when he left the house this morning were scathing because I insisted on giving him a blowjob while he was trying to get ready for an important business meeting. In truth, I did spill some spunk down his trousers. It was unlike me, but then he shouldn’t have struggled.“I may as well go and fuck the whole of London Town – for all you care,” I shouted after him.My trailing words fell on deaf ears as the door closed behind him, though a text message popped on my phone moments later, do it Cinders – see if I care.I hatched a plan. A trip from my home town of Reading to London, drop by my favourite sex shop to stock up on kinky outfits, dinner at somewhere close to the Ritz. The Ritz probably wouldn’t let me in any way; my outfit would let me down on that score. I would then hang around town before trekking off to The Kink. A favourite venue of mine.That’s what I planned and that’s precisely what I did. What he made me.
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