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The music was still playing. Perhaps there was enough time. * * * Matt followed the red dress up the stairs. He peeked into the first box and quietly cleared the empty glasses before ducking back out into the hallway. The red dress was standing outside their mark’s box, paying him no mind. She set the glass on the small inset shelf next to one of the hall’s better lamps and slid a pair of opera gloves onto her hands. Carefully, the dark-haired woman wiped the glass clean with a white cloth, then pulled a tiny vial from her thick braid of hair. As the woman glanced his way, Matt slipped into the next box just enough to be out of sight. He claimed another empty glass and backed out into the hallway. The red dress was gone. He glanced quickly up and down the narrow hallway, but there was no one in sight. Just as he reached the mark’s box, he heard the woman’s voice purr something in Hungarian, peeked in long enough to see the effects of the woman’s vial, then glanced up towards Charlie.. Her white shirt was too tight to conceal even her tiny breasts and he could see they made an impression not only on her clothing but also on the man sitting opposite. Noted for future use. A respectable, office-length black skirt guarded her legs from all but the briefest exposure. It could not shield her rear when she had walked on board, however, and he knew from the panty-line that she was wearing skimpy underwear. He had a closet rebel and that appealed to him more than anything her blonde, short hair or other physical charms could invoke. She was perfect because she less than pure herself, though he wondered where the guilt came from sometimes, given that he felt so little and thought so much. The train set off and the commuters engaged in their ritual sleeping, chatting and vacant looks out of the window. There were many pointless stops en route but he knew that office girls only ever went to Lexington, in fact it was the only city that still seemed to be hiring, so he had.
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