Susan walked up the set of back stairs, four flights, but she never
batted an eye, never took a heavy breath. Instead, her face seemed
bored, but if one could see her mind turning, they’d see the wheels
spinning at a momentous rate.

Tina Kennard, there was something special about her, how twisted could
a little housewife be? She was sure she wanted to find out, and
positive that Tina was going to want to find out also. She was going to
have to lead her, slowly, into this path, but Susan had found a new
patience in the last few months. Her name was Jo Wheaton; for once,
Susan had met her match, in more ways than one.

She entered the main offices, high above the dance floor of Twilight .
There was one secretary, but she paid no mind to Susan. She put her
palm on the pad outside the door that would allow her into the inner
office. A soft humming as the Tommy-knocker green light scanned her
palm, picking up the fingerprints, scars and lines and then another
soft beep.

“Come in.” The voice came through the speaker, losing none of its
humanity in the electronic translation and the door unlocked, allowing
Susan into the room. She usually commanded a room when she entered but
not this room; this was Jo’s floating palace.

“I apologize for being.” Susan began, and the chair spun around,
revealing a handsome tomboy, dressed in tight faded jeans, and an old
heather gray tee shirt. The tee shirt read, Lincoln High School PE #1073
The silver medallion she wore glimmered in the neon lights of the room.
Jo had an affinity for colored lights, greens and purples; her skin
shimmered less under these lights, and Susan saw the feral look in Jo’s
steely eyes.

“Busy?” Jo asked, gesturing to the couch, and Susan sat without
thinking, regretting it almost instantly. Susan watched her eyes, the
blue grey eyes that seemed to shift colors when the woman’s emotions
took over. She was sure on the day she met her, that when she’d taken
off the smokey sunglasses, that Jo Wheaton’s eyes had been a dark amber
in color. Imagination was sometimes a curse; then again, she’d met Jo
under very odd circumstances.

“Yes, a new prospect waltzed into my club this morning.” Susan said
licking her lips and running her tongue over her teeth, conjuring up
the mental image of Tina in her mind’s eye.