Half an hour later I got a text and it was from her.“Sorry again,” it said. “Tomorrow morning I work at home. 10:30? Private. No stress.”I wen... there in the morning, but not expecting a massage. I didn’t know what to expect, of her or of myself. She was in the kitchen when I arrived, making coffee, wearing a white t-shirt and a denim skirt just above the knee. We sat at the kitchen table.“Are you happy?” she asked, staring into her cup, then flicking her gaze up to see my reaction.“Yes,” I. He had a pained expression on his face, and he stood in front of me, reaching beneath his shirt, feeling for something. When he brought his hand out again, his fingers were covered with blood. ‘Oh, my god… Olu,’ I gasped. I immediately forgot about my nervousness and rushed to help him out of his clothes. His coat and shirt had been sliced open, and were soaked with a dark red stain. ‘He stabbed you?’ I breathed. Olu frowned, taking the shirt and pressing it into his wound. ‘I’ll call a. More

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