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You should know that," he actually sneered at me.I left the police station very unsatisfied and a bit angry at the town of Clinton. I made my way to the local library, and found the story in the local paper. Information was in the paper, that the police had refused to give me. I shook my head at that.Not much there, really. Just that he had been found murdered, on the grounds of the old Clinton Mansion. Strange markings had been found on his body. That was new. When I had viewed the body, he had already been cleaned.I got the name of the street, and the address of the Clinton Mansion from the paper. I would go to the scene of the crime. While the police were not to willing to give me what was apparently public information, the newspaper could always be counted on to be informative: Investigation 101.20 minutes later I was at the chain locked gate of the Clinton Mansion. Why Phillip had come here, was unclear to me. I walked the perimeter of the wall. Yes, an actual wall. That took me. So I walk to my private room and begin the process of feeling like a woman. I pour myself a glass of one of my favorite wines. The intoxicating subtle aroma of strawberry and cherry of the 1971 Domaine Georges & Christopher Roumier wine floods my senses. . The perfumes, the makeup...oh what a feeling they bring. Femininity is in the air. Forty-five minutes later I emerge. As I descend down the stairs to the party area, I see the shimmering lights, and others elegantly dressed. Tuxedos and evening dresses are everywhere, all very elegant. I am wearing an Oscar De La Renta, black, low back; it hugs my curves in the right places, and a slit to the side to show my smooth shaped thigh. I mingle with the others and I see Andrew out of the corner of my eye. Oh does he know what he does to my heart beat, to my essence? I am taken to the dance floor, and after the second set we are interrupted. Oh my, it is him. I take his hand, he twirls me and all I can do is smile up at him. He grabs me.
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