They worked real hours to earn real money to offset their "intern" hours. I asked them individually about the project and both blamed the other for no... keeping up, and no, they hadn't submitted, or made any, progress in two weeks. I freaked out, partly because of their non-chalance, partly because I had let the ball drop and failed to follow up.When I informed Miranda, she barely looked up at me. "You're giving me excuses, I need the product. Blaming someone else is no reason, and you are. She, of course, was doing well for herself, working in an art gallery. I knew all this, of course. I knew that the gallery owner, a Professor Mbengwi, was one of her regular fuck buddies, but I didn't say anything. I let the images I'd seen of the Professor and his friends ravishing my perfect Sarah play across my mind for a second, suppressing a shudder. She smiled at me, I smiled at her.She told me about her fiancé, Neil. I pretended to be interested, concealing my hatred for this unknown. More

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