Consequences Unforeseen

Hong Kong June 14th 1991.... Robin Exposed

Hong Kong June 14th 1991 ….. Robin Exposed

The elevator seemed claustrophobic with two of them standing in it. Typical of Asian lifts it was able to hold 3 people maybe 4 at a push. You could certainly touch opposing walls by simply extending your arms out at your sides. The roof was a mere 12 inches above your head.

Bill’s uncle John growled in his head, “Ye coudna’ swing a cat in here. Fucking smells like cat’s piss as well!” Bill chuckled as the image ran through his mind and the smell accosted his nostrils.

He was aware more now of Robin’s girth. In the pub, behind the bar she had a girlish plump look. Breasts well concealed but hinted at none the less: Sturdy legs and back but soft looking and slightly overweight.

Now standing immediately to her left, and back against the wall, he was aware of the “space’ she occupied like it was a solid block of air against which his shoulders brushed.

Robin hadn’t said a word in the time taken to reach the lift. She had walked in front of him as if deliberately giving him the opportunity to take all of her in. Without realizing it consciously, he had done just that and come to the conclusion that this young lady was in the wrong profession. She had the gait of a heavy set woman and swayed slightly from side to side as she moved.

He became uncomfortable as to how she could be a ‘protector of another person, let alone of herself in a bad situation – a mugging or a personal attack. He’d decided to take this up with Brookhall when they met.

All this trickling through his mind and he had relaxed into an acceptance that he’d see this through for the rest of the day and into tomorrow, and he’d decided that this young lady presented no threat and showed few signs of any special training.

Only pressed against her in this rattling and descending contraption was he finally aware that she was balanced and solid. As he was thinking this, he felt the unmistakable prod of an automatic hand gun into the small of his back.

“Shit” he thought, “Where the fuck did that come from?” Even with his knowledge and ability, he knew that if he moved a muscle, he was a dead man.

“OK, Robin, you fucking have me. What the fuck is this about?” was all he said. His breathing was up a bit, but his pulse never rose, nor did he appear perturbed. In his head the voice said, “If she wanted you dead, ye’d be gone by noo. Ye’r a daft bastard walkin’ behind her and fantasizing about hoo fat she wis. Yer a sexist stupid fuck – an this serves ye right!

No response from Robin, just a firmer push on the point of contact, for emphasis. It was clear to him she wanted him to realize that she couldn’t kill him from that angle and that she had chosen this deliberately.

No. he mused, she was simply pointing out that he’d been a fool to take her lightly. She angled the weapon upwards now and slightly to the left. This was a kill shot she’d created. To make the point even more, she pushed into him just enough to actually hurt.

Douglas felt her breath on the side of his neck as the gun prodded him again as if prompting a response.

“OK,” he nodded, “I get it. You’re smooth as Hell, and you got me cold. You’re not what you come across as, and I’m just like all the rest of the men on the planet. I took you for a girly girl and had my doubts about your abilities.”

He allowed his breath to flow out of him and he softened his muscles against the gun as he continued. “You finished?”

In response the weapon was withdrawn, made safe and pocketed in a mere second or two.