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This suited me fine. Didn’t really want to talk about it and was happy to keep the conversation light. As dinner went on, I realized that I was getting a little tipsy. Another thing I realized was that my mom wasn’t wearing a bra. As we would chat she would lean over the table and I could see right down her blouse. I caught myself peeking more than once and started to ask myself what the hell I was doing. I relaxed a little when I told myself that I hadn’t even seen a naked woman in over a year. That a ton of cleavage right near my face, no matter who the cleavage in question belonged to, was bound to get my attention. “Ready to go?” Mom said as signed the check and smiled at me “Sure. Head back to the house?” “Unless you’ve got somewhere else to be.” “Well,” I said, “I wouldn’t mind having another drink.” “Ah!” Mom said then laughed, “A little dry after a year in the desert, huh? Well, don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. I had a get together at the house two weeks ago and have a. I wasn't sure how much, if any, of the article to believe. I was about to turn the page when something drew my attention back to the picture of the Pasha's harem. One of the figures seemed curiously familiar. I reached for the magnifying glass that I keep to hand on my desk. Over on the far right of the picture, one woman, as scantily clad as the rest but with her face momentarily exposed as she adjusted her veil, stared out at the photographer. It was, I was certain, Amelia Knight. What a coincidence, I thought, that Miss Knight should appear on the scene and that the Pasha should suddenly experience a revolt in his harem.It was only moments later that I was disturbed by a ring on my door bell. Such an event before ten o'clock in the morning is not a common occurrence. I rarely have to concern myself with business affairs – apart, of course, from seeing to the priorities of my residents – before luncheon.Nevertheless it seemed I was to be disturbed. Helena answered the door. (In.
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