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I called Derek’s name again, but not as loudly. Something about being in a strange dark house made me feel as if I ought to be sneaky. Eventually, a loud exclamation alerted me that he was upstairs, but it wasn’t my yelling, or even Derek’s. The voice belonged to a woman.“Ooohh, Jiminy cricket!” The scream was so unexpected and so bizarre that it stopped me dead in my tracks. Jiminy Cricket? I didn’t know what to make of it. It could have been a cry of pain, of warning, of passion, or it could have come from someone who really likes Pinnochio for all I knew. I started to creep up the steps, thinking “I probably shouldn’t be doing this,” and when I heard the second scream - the more conventional “Oh God, yes!” - I was certain: I definitely shouldn’t be doing this. But Diana had been correct earlier in labeling me a total pervert. Anything concerning sex drew me like a firefly to a bug-zapper. I was a total pervert, and total perverts never let reason or common sense get in the way. The peoplein these types of houses were more likely to call the police than buyanything from her. When the young guy opened the door, a frown on hisface and glasses dangling from his fingers, she launched into her spiel.Experience had taught her to say it quickly before they had a chance tosay no. She thought he was going to send her on her way, but he took asecond glance at her, even put his glasses on, then made the offer forher to come inside for a tea. She hesitated, life had taught her to bewary about offers like this. But, she was soaking wet, cold and hungry.The thought of getting dry was enough to overcome her reservations. Whenhe moved aside to let her in, she stepped inside, her senses alert foranything that looked off.He told her to keep going straight, the kitchen was at the end of thecorridor. He closed the front door following her in. Her cheap anorakand hoodie were so wet through they were dripping on the kitchen flooras she stood there clasping the box tightly as if.
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