More than one way to skin a cat, Detective Jill Anderson thought as she got comfortable on the edge of the bathtub in her room at the Riverside Hotel. She looked down, her face tight, and contemplated the spot between her legs.

Jilly was a slim little girl, not quite a hundred pounds, and her slender pelvis only allowed for a narrow slice guarded each side by a tight, straight vaginal lip– her genitalia was nicely crowned though, by a prominent pubis bone covered with a rich, thick mat of curls, the gloss of which was the reflection of dark honey. A color that matched her trendy hairstyle.

She sighed deeply, picked up manicure scissors and imagined an invisible line running from the center of her tummy down to the divide where her clitoris was concealed in the fold. Jilly began snipping. Curls dropped into the bathtub like feathers falling from the sky and when she had finished clipping from the center, outward, she applied a damp cloth before layering on the shaving cream.

With a blue, double-edge razor, Jilly removed the stubble with slick strokes. She showered, oiled the freshly revealed flesh and stood naked in front of the full length mirror. Her vagina was neatly divided into halves: one half bare and silky smooth, the other thickly forested.

She studied her face. Though several years older, she looked eighteen, a trait that was a constant embarrassment to her. At school, she had been teased, called monkey-face but Jilly had matured into a lovely young women with, she thought, impish features.

Her eyes ranged over the slim body reflected in the glass. Her boney ribs blossomed with girlish breasts. Each smallish mound was tipped with a defined, perfectly round areola, the size of a quarter and the color of mahogany. Long, erect nipples gave her breasts the illusion of being slightly pointed, something that caused men to lower their eyes during conversation. Jilly’s tummy was flat and her hip bones protruded like bent wire from beneath the skin. Her legs and arms were delicate, long and swan-like.

She studied her vagina once again. The left side was bald and pink now, and glistened with oil, while the right remained untouched and densely covered with curly pubic hair. It was like looking at a half-smile, she thought. She quickly pulled on skimpy red panties and shimmied into a summer dress. Jilly was about to expose her nonsensical pubic cut to a complete stranger and she wasn’t sure how she should feel about that.

The previous morning, Jilly had been summoned upstairs.

She was elbow-deep in missing person reports when her desk phone rang. Sharon Secco cleared her throat. “Jilly. I got someone in my office who wants to meet you. He’s CIA.”

Jilly took the stairs two at a time and went straight to the open door of Sharon’s corner office. The guy stood immediately and held out a hand. “Officer Anderson,” he announced himself, “Daniel Rich. I’m pleased...” And he turned Sharon’s guest chair– held it so Jilly could sit.

Sharon seemed disjointed, Jilly thought, like she wanted the man out of her office, pronto. She watched Sharon tug a wayward blond strand from a flushed cheek and tuck it behind an ear.

Sharon’s voice was brittle. “Dan has a rather interesting proposition for you, Jilly.”

Dan was a distinguished sixty-year-old who filled out a size forty-two jacket handsomely. He possessed craggy good looks and a head of thick, gray hair. The flash of his smile could make a girl think twice about her wedding-band and Jilly couldn’t fathom why Sharon seemed anxious for the man to state his business and go.

“The CIA?” Jilly breathed. “How can I help?” She failed to cover the girlish enthusiasm she felt and flushed at the sound of her own voice. “Anything, I mean...”

Jilly felt giddiness tremble in her tummy as he took her hand and wondered about suggesting they move downstairs, where she would have him all to herself.

Dan chuckled warmly and got seated in front of Sharon’s desk. “You may change your mind after you hear what I have to say.” It was an ominous introduction but his smile remained in place.

He watched Jilly nod and fold her hands into her lap. “A month ago,” he continued, “we got a line on an arms smuggler. A Russian national working out of Africa. Her name is ... was ... Ida Vetch. She was preparing to smuggle a shipping container of Kalashnikov assault rifles from Tunisia to New York. INTERPOL intercepted the shipment at Gibraltar. There was an altercation and Vetch was shot in the chest.”

“She died?” Jilly asked.

“Yes, instantly. But her death was hushed-up. And the shipment of arms continued on its way. The shipping container is presently on a cargo ship, a day out of the Port of New York City.”

Jilly’s eyes came up. “On its way? Here?” She pulled a pad from her bag, crossed her legs and scribbled down notes. “But why not dispose of the arms in Europe?”

Dan was watching her notepad perched atop a slim knee. “Because, we want to know who the buyer is. Someone in the States intends to import enough firepower to equip a small army. We want to know who and that’s why I requested a meeting with you.”

Jilly’s pencil paused above the yellow pad. “Me? But this is an international incident. Clearly under the jurisdiction of Central Intelligence. Why would you involve local law enforcement?”

Dan turned to Sharon. “If you would...”

“Sure.” Sharon nodded and turned a computer monitor so Jilly could see. Sharon rattled her keyboard with lacquered nails and an image hardened on the screen.

The color left Jilly’s cheeks. “Oh geez,” she exhaled. “It’s like looking into a mirror.”

“Meet Ida Vetch.” Dan tapped the computer screen with his pencil. “What do you think?”

Jilly leaned in closer. “She’s me. I mean she looks like me.”

“Yes,” Dan continued. “The hair’s different and she is a little harder, especially about the mouth. But honestly, except for your glasses, you could be her twin sister. Do you have contacts?”

Jilly ran a thumb along her jaw. “You want me to be her. Here in New York. You want me to complete the arms sale. A sting operation with me posing as Vetch.”

“Exactly,” Dan said.

As best as could be determined, Ida Vetch had visited New York on at least two previous occasions. And while transacting her business dealings, she always stayed at the Riverside Hotel. And that’s where Jilly was headed.

The Riverside was a desperate excuse for a hotel, located close to the waterfront and the warehouse where Vetch had her shipment delivered by truck from the docks. The cabbie dropped Jilly off and she used an elbow on the hotel door to avoid the greasy handle. Inside, the lobby was poorly lit and smelled of boiled cabbage and stale cigarette smoke.

“Miss Vetch. Good to see yuh.” The guy behind the counter brightened. “Man, I love what you did to your hair. Hardly recognize your face.”

Jilly dropped a travel bag on the floorboards and passed across Vetch’s passport. “Glad you like it, Paco.” She read his name tag. “I had a layover in Paris and treated myself to a makeover.”

“Paris, eh?” He thumbed the passport but didn’t open it. “Well it sure works for yuh. You even sound different. You been workin’ on the accent?”

Vetch had a European accent, Jilly realized. Had she been found out so soon? And by a mere hotel desk-boy? She ignored the perspiration gathering in her underarms and pulled her thoughts together. “I p-plan to be a New Yorker, one day.” She regained her composure. “Might as well sound like one.”

“Really...” he said, his smile widening. “Gonna live here? Well if you’re ever lookin’ for someone to show you around, I’m your man.” He picked a key off a hook, folded it into Vetch’s passport and passed them both across. “Cash, as usual.”

Jilly dug into her bag. “Same as last time?”

“Naw. It’s gone up five bucks. But you being a regular and all, make it an even thirty. And I gave you your old room, to make it easier.”

A frown creased Jilly’s forehead. “Easier?”

“Yeah. For the johns to find you. Upstairs. You’re still hookin’, right?”

“Oh that. Yes, of course...”

Paco smiled at her tits. “Wish I could afford your rates, Miss Vetch. I’d bang the fuck outta yuh.”

“I’m sure you would.” Jilly reached for her bag. “Save those pennies, Paco, and one day ... who knows.”

Her room brought new meaning to the word, fleabag: bath and a single bed, lukewarm water from a corroded faucet, no air conditioning, no TV and when she tossed back the bed-sheet, six heart-shaped beetles scurried off the edge of the mattress.

She cringed and went to open the window. The old casement-style overlooked Barnacle Bill’s,

a one story brick building painted flat black with neon strip lighting around the entrance-way and blanked-out windows. And even being the middle of the afternoon, Jilly could hear ruckus music and the frivolous squeals of silly women.

Jilly set Ida Vetch’s passport and cell phone side by side on the night table, sat on the edge of the bed and wondered, what next? She pulled out her notebook and wrote: bug spray, portable radio, window fan, bath towels, bottled water and ear plugs.

She wasn’t hungry, but with nothing else to do, she placed her shopping list in her bag and went to explore the neighborhood. She found the warehouse easily enough and wondered when the truck would arrive. At a dumpy deli, the guy in the dirty apron did a double-take and smiled. “The usual?” he called out.

Jilly nodded and got a booth where she could look out over the street. Moments later, the guy stepped out from behind the counter and set a plate of microwaved pierogi and onion down on Jilly’s table. “Back so soon?” he asked, pouring Coors into a glass.

Jilly nodded. “Business as usual,” she mumbled and was happy to see the guy retreat to his place behind the counter. Jilly didn’t want to encourage small talk.

The pierogi was freezer burned but the beer was crisp and cold and she sipped at it while studying Ida’s cell phone. She wondered what she would do if it suddenly rang in her hand? What would she say?

Back in her room, Jilly unpacked her shopping bags and plugged in the dime-store radio. She stripped the bed, hosed it down with insect killer and hoped the bedbugs would take the hint. She was just cracking the cover of a paperback when there was a tap at the door.

Jilly felt her stomach slide. Had they arrived, to take possession of the shipment? Or was Paco checking up on her, in hopes of a freebie? She pulled her Kahr 9mm from her bag and went to see.

She placed her cheek close to the wood panel. “Yes? Who is it?”

“Danny Rich,” the muffled reply came back.

Danny... she frowned and blew out a breath. “Just a sec. Let me get the chain.”

He stood in the doorway with a shopping bag of his own. “Just got off shift and thought I’d stop by. See if you were settling in okay.” He pulled a bottle from the paper sack. “Figured we could have a drink first, and then go out for a bite to eat.”

Jilly felt blindsided. “Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.”

He frowned a moment. “Well there’s still the wine...”

She reneged and stood one side. “That sounds nice. C’mon in and I’ll see if I can find glasses.”

“Christ,” he swore, looking about the room. “Sorry about this. I didn’t know.” His eyes settled on the cobwebs. “Disgusting.”

“Well it’s not Trump Tower...”

“And the security is pretty lax too. There’s no one on the front desk.”

“That’s Paco. He’s probably watching his monitor in back.”

“His monitor?”

“Yeah. There’s a mini-cam hidden behind the philodendron in the bathroom. It’s pointed at my tub.”

Dan’s face turned inward. “He’s spying on you? While you bathe?”

Jilly grinned. “Not yet he hasn’t. I showered before leaving home this morning and tonight, when it’s dark, I’ll go in and move the plastic leaves around to block the lens. It’ll be interesting to see how long it takes for him to find an excuse to check my plumbing.”

“Hmm? Your plumbing?”

Jilly smirked. “You know what I mean...”

“There’s not a man alive who wouldn’t want to check out your plumbing.” A broad smile split his face.

Jilly gawked.

He shrugged. “Relax. I’m only human...”

Jilly fought a queer feeling in her chest but moved toward the bathroom. “I’ll check for glasses. Hope you’re not expecting crystal. And help yourself to the edge of the mattress. There isn’t a chair.”

There was the chuckle again, a rumble from low in his chest. “Never been lucky enough to bed a girl ... on a first date.”

His innuendos were beginning to annoy Jilly but she shrugged it off. She had turned down his dinner invitation and felt a bit uncomfortable about doing it, though she didn’t understand why she should. She came out of the bathroom unwrapping two glasses and found him sitting on the side of the mattress. He had opened the bottle with his utility knife and was ready to pour.

“We’re lucky,” Jilly dropped down beside him. “There’s two ... we won’t have to share.”

He filled a glass. “I can think of worse things than sharing a glass with a pretty girl.”

“Girl?” Jilly’s eyes came up. “I’m afraid my girl-days are long over. I moved away from the folks, graduated the Police Academy, have a full time job, and even a drivers license.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Dan sipped wine. “You remind me of my two daughters, when they were in their teens.”

“And that’s why I still get carded when I order a drink.”

His laugh had a hollow ring. “I think you are a delightful young woman. Is that better?”

It wasn’t, but she nodded. “Yes. Just like your daughters.”

“Yes,” he said, and turning slightly, he ran the backs of his knuckles up the outside of Jilly’s leg. She had to wonder if he was as suggestive with his teenage girls.

Jilly was wearing a tiny sun dress and her legs were bare. She stiffened as he plucked up the hem so he could slid fingers beneath the fabric.

“Mmm. Nice,” he said, looking down.

Jilly dropped her hand over his to slow the ascent, and before he could expose her underpants. She squeezed his fingers. “Yikes,” she said. “You’re hitting on me.”

“Yes, I guess I am. You seeing anyone?” he asked, his fingers still toying in the fabric of her skirt.

“No ... no one special. I mean, there never seems time for a social life.”

“I know the feeling. I came up through the ranks of a big city police department too. But it’s not like you’re a virgin. You know how things are...”

Jilly felt the floor open up. Not having had any experience... no ... she had no idea of how things were. There had been her cousin, who had driven her home after her sister’s wedding. He had walked her to the door and invited himself in. And didn’t seem inclined to leave until he had unloaded his balls.

She’d had a couple of drinks at the reception and was feeling vulnerable and she finally allowed herself to be talked out of her clothes. She could have asked for a more memorable time, being he was her first, but at least her cousin hadn’t asked her to do anything weird. And he seemed thrilled to have tagged a virgin, like it was some sort of high water mark, and the fact they were family, at least for him, had added a hedonistic slant.

And then there was Tomasina Vencenzi. Jilly had slept with Tommy, but that was more out of curiosity. Tommy was so groggy after taking several punches to the head during the third round of a fight, Jilly had felt obligated to take her home. When Tommy passed out on Jilly’s bed, she had removed Tommy’s boots and it seemed the most natural thing in the world, to keep on going. Jilly pulled Tommy’s sports bra off over her head and worked the silk boxing shorts down her thighs.

When Tommy lay naked on Jilly’s bed, Jilly couldn’t help but want to know. She was looking at the nude body of the most masculine women she had ever met and with her cheek pressed to Tommy’s thigh, Jilly searched for a penis. There wasn’t one but the woman’s gooey clitoris could have sufficed. It was the size of Jilly’s fingertip.

The lack of a penis left Jilly feeling a little disappointed. If she had found one, it could have justified her interest in Tommy, or at least made things palatable. But even so, Jilly was curious. Feeling a bit dangerous, Jilly dropped her clothes to the floor, determined to delve into her fantasies before Tommy regained conscientiousness. Jilly crawled up onto Tommy, tossed a sheet over the both of them and, holding that massive woman’s body, she thrilled to the feel of hard tits against her own. She took liberties, stroking, biting and exploring while Tommy lay unresponsive.

That didn’t make her a lesbian, Jilly figured– more of an opportunist. But it had felt really nice. And Tommy hadn’t pushed her outta bed when her eyes fluttered back the next morning. But Tommy hadn’t ground her vagina into Jilly’s neither. And Jilly surprised herself– she felt just a little bit cheated.

And now Lieutenant Dan Rich was zeroing-in on her crotch. Jilly squeezed his hand. “Gee ... give a girl a moment to catch her breath.” And she stood, questioning his intentions and slipping away from under his hands.

Jilly crossed the room and stood watching the entrance to Barnacle Bill’s. She felt Dan move in behind and the blood began to thunder through her temples. His large hands closed on her hips and he eased her back. Dan was so much older, and Jilly felt like a child in his arms. His advances bewildered her and she felt overwhelmed by his persistence.

Dan’s penis was hard and thick and he rubbed it between her buttocks. To and fro, dragging it up and down, but it wasn’t until he lifted her dress and squeezed between her thighs that she realized he had unzipped himself. She felt the hard shaft sheathed in soft, smooth skin working between her thighs. “I shouldn’t...” she tried.”

“Shouldn’t or won’t?” He was at her ear and started humping against her leg.

Jilly struggled with the feelings of defeat and, as with her cousin, figured it was easier to give in. She shifted her feet apart and reached back between her thighs. Jilly lifted his cock and held it tight to the crotch of her panties. “You can cum in my hand if you want.”

“Oh yes,” he moaned and began rocking his hips. Jilly leaned forward, her opposite hand on the window sill and she held him until semen squeezed out from between her fingers.

Am I easy, Jilly thought to herself, or just a dope?

She was in the bathroom, washing the sticky goo from her hand and wondering what she would say to get rid of him, when Ida Vetch’s cell phone rang.

“Oh Christ,” Jilly stormed from the bathroom and made a dive for the phone on her night table. Dan was quick to step out of her way.

“Yes- yes,” Jilly got the phone to her ear. “I’m here.” She looked to Dan, turned, and listened for a moment. “Yes. This is Vetch. Do I know you?”

Dan tried to get closer but Jilly moved away. “Yes, of course I want to get together with you ... tomorrow? Absolutely.”

“We’ve never met,” the disenfranchised voice rang in Jilly’s ear, “And I don’t know what you look like but you know the park? Two blocks over?”

“Yes...”

“Be there tomorrow at ten. Sit by the hot dog stand. And know I’ll be watching.”

“I understand.”

“And also know you’ll be followed every step of the way, so no tricks. But I’ll need something ... so I’ll recognize it’s you.”

“You mean like a code-word?”

He laughed. “No. Something more interesting. You got a hairy cunt, Miss Vetch?”

“Y-yes. I guess...” Jilly swallowed. “Why?”

“Shave it. But only the left side. And wear a short dress. When I pass by, lift the front of your dress and show me your pussy. I’ll see and know it’s you.”

“But what if it’s not you.” Jilly said, indignation coloring her voice. “Any guy could pass by. What then?”

He laughed. “Then that guy you flash will consider himself the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the world.” The phone went dead in her hand.

Dan looked like he was about to have kittens. “Whad’he say? Whad’he say?”

Jilly was incredulous. “He set it up for tomorrow. At the park on 44^th. But he said I’d be followed.”

Dan Rich ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, fuck. I anticipated that.”

“I’ll be on my own, then. Whad’am I going to do?”

“Play the game, Detective.” Dan stood and adjusted the front of his trousers. “Do anything and everything he tells you to.” Dan moved toward the door. “And thanks for the hand-job. It was fuckin’ decent.” And just like that, he excused himself. He opened her hotel room door, stepped through and leaned back in. “Enjoy the rest of the wine,” he said.

Jilly got up early the next morning, ran the water until it was warm and unzipped her manicure set. Sitting on the side of the tub, she shaved the left side of her pubis with the blue razor she usually reserved for her underarms. Jilly was standing in front of the full length mirror, rubbing baby oil into her pussy when she suddenly remembered the camera hidden in the hanging flower pot.

She spun, spotted the naked eye of the lens and swore. An LED was flashing. “Fuckin’ Paco.” And Jilly ripped the camera out from beneath the plastic plant and, whirling it by the wires she tore from the ceiling tiles, she smashed the camera against the side of the tub.

Jilly was trembling as she tugged bikini briefs into place and dropped a slim dress down over her shoulders. She smoothed out the wrinkles and checked her hair and makeup one last time before heading over to 44^th Street.

Just as the guy had suggested, there was a line of benches across from the refreshment stand. She got settled and watched a man in a white apron setting up for the day. In a crazy moment of anxiety, she wondered if it might be him. Should she lift her dress and let the hot dog vendor see.

She quickly brushed the notion aside as being absurd.

The next guy was walking his dog. He slowed, took an interest in her legs and hesitated. But just as Jilly uncrossed her knees, a young girl ran up. “C’mon dad. Mom’s waiting...” and she grabbed the dog-walker by the elbow and pulled him away. Jilly ran a hand across a sweaty brow and exhaled. This was starting to get to her.

A couple of teenage boys slowed to look but Jilly ignored them and checked her watch. She had been on the bench for twenty minutes and was starting to get strange looks from the guy in the apron. She was looking around, thinking of switching to a different bench, when she noticed a thin man, dressed in black, sitting behind.

He met her eyes but didn’t look away and instead, studied her features closely. Her backbone contracted. Jilly shuddered and ignored him, returning her gaze to the hot dog vendor. She sat a moment, feeling the eyes behind boring in and glanced back. He was still there. Still looking.

Jilly gathered herself. She got up from the bench and skirted around the end. She crossed a sidewalk and moved to a position in front of the man in black. Without saying a word, Jilly looked right, then left, and certain they were alone, she lifted her dress and pulled down the front of her panties.

“Miss Vetch,” he said. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Jilly snapped the elastic back into place and smoothed her dress down along her thighs. “Quite the letter of introduction you devised. Hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did. Thank you.” He checked their surroundings. “I didn’t realize you were going to be so pretty. I mean an arms dealer named Vetch ... it conjures up an image. I’m pleased you don’t fit.”

“Yes, well ... now you’ve had your jollies, maybe we can talk business.”

His chin came up. “Oh no, Miss Vetch. Do I look like a billionaire?” He grinned. “I’m just your driver.”

Jilly’s eyes bugged. “What? My Driver?”

“Sure,” he said and pointed. There was a classic Eldorado stretch, black with heavily tinted windows, parked by the curb. “Shall we go...”

Jilly felt very alone as she slipped across the leather upholstery. He got in back with her and cuffed her wrists before running a wand across her skimpy dress. “Can’t imagine what you could be hiding under there,” he laughed when the metal detector didn’t sound off. He checked her hair and then her pumps. “There you are ... good to go. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wear this.”

He held a satin bag in his hand. “I’ll just slip it over your head and we’ll be on our way.”

The darkness was black and absolute.

The driver was skillful behind the wheel and Jilly could feel themselves weaving in and out of traffic. A highway, she thought and moved to the window. If she could determine the angle of the sun, she would have some idea of their direction. But all she saw was the inside of the black hood.

The car’s tires rumbled as they crossed the expansion grid of a bridge; but which one? The car drove on leaving the sounds of the City behind. The traffic eased and the driver relaxed; lowering his window. Jilly inhaled the fragrance of cut grass, flowers and heard the melody of songbirds.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the car slowed, made a turn and came to a stop. The car door opened and Jilly was lifted out. There were two of them now, a man on each arm. She was moved through a door, up a set of stairs, along a hallway and into a room.

The cuffs were removed and she recognized the driver’s voice. “You can take off the hood now but wait here; someone is coming.” And Jilly heard the door close.

She loosened the hood from about her neck and pulled it off. She was alone and standing in the center of a bedroom. “Oh no...” she said to the king-sized bed.

Jilly was feeling hard-done-by and she didn’t like it much. She tore one of the pillows from the bed and hurled it against the wall. “God-damned CIA,” she swore at her reflection in a mirror and thought of smashing the glass. Jilly looked closer. A wild woman was reflected back and the image unsettled her. Now of all times, she needed to be calm and collected. Think, she scolded herself.

Jilly slumped to the bed. What would Tommy do in a situation like this? Certainly the bruising lady cop wouldn’t lose her cool. Tommy always got it right. It infuriated Jilly but she had to admire the woman’s balls. “What would Tommy do in a situation like this?” Jilly asked the mirror.

The door opened and a man with a shaved head saw Jilly stretched out across the giant bed. She came up on an elbow, smiled and reached out to him. “I suppose you’ll want to see my credentials, too...” And she opened her hand. A pair of scarlet-red panties fell, dangling from her fingertips.

He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Well, yes. Now that you’ve offered, why wouldn’t I?”

Jilly didn’t hesitate because she knew if she did, she’d chicken-out. She swung her legs around and, sitting with one foot on the floor, the other heel cocked up on the mattress, she took up the hem of her dress and held it to her breast. She opened her knees.

The guy gawked. He had an unobstructed view of Jilly, from tit to toe but he narrowed in on her pretty vagina and started to laugh. “That fuckin’ Axle. He make you do that?”

Jilly’s eyes circled. “What?”

He swiped at a tear. “Shave like that– just the one side. That fuckin’ Axle.”

“Axle?” Jilly asked, forgetting she still held a corner of her dress tucked between her breasts.

“Yeah. My driver. What a joker. It was totally unnecessary, you understand. I mean I have photographs. We know damn well what you look like, Ida.”

She had been duped. Jilly flushed red across her chest and felt the heat rise up her neck. He was still focused between her legs. Jilly frowned down at her lap, huffed, and feeling cheated, she jammed her hemline between her thighs.

“Don’t be too quick to cover up. We’ll all want to have a look ... at your credentials.”

Jilly was trying to control the tremor she felt in her hands. “All?”

“Myself and my business associates, but first, let’s straighten things up, shall we? I’ll be back in a few minutes but in the meantime, I’ll send Carol in to you. Oh, and give me the panties, would you? I want to show them around.”

He laughed when she tossed them at his face and turning on a heel, he disappeared out the bedroom door.

Jilly was just beginning to gain control of her breathing when a strident woman entered. She was attractive, if you liked equestrian sports, and had the swagger of a female jock. She was thirtyish, wore a tight, navy blue uniform and carried a bowl with a towel draped across her arm. “I’m Carol,” the woman told her, “the housekeeper.” And Carol pulled scissors and razor from her apron. “El Patrón has asked for you to be shaved.”

“Oh, too bad. Tell El- El Patrón ... tell him I did my underarms, just this morning,” Jilly spat back, sounding more spirited than she felt.

Carol gave her a withered look. “Thanks,” and she lay a towel on the bed, “that just leaves one spot I have to contend with. Now hop up there and spread ‘em.”