What the hell was going on? Paul was a strict rationalist. He did not believe in God or in the supernatural, but something was going on here he did not understand, that did not fit into any rational frame of reference. He should be frightened, and yet he was not. Instead he felt exhilarated. Even the trembling in his hands had ceased. When he came at last to the centre of the maze, to that mysterious chamber with the row of mirrors running down its centre, a reflection from some other time. And she smiled at me. It seemed a perfectly innocent smile, of the kind we all exchange with each other when we meet someone we’ve never met before. If there was guile in it, or seduction, I didn’t see it. Later—much later—she denied that there had been any of either. In the daze that resulted, I said something like ‘Good morning.’ Her smile deepened and she returned my greeting: ‘Good morning, Professor Harrison.’ Her voice, which, really, was just an unexceptional female voice, resonated. The room where they'd sat me appeared to have some soundproofing, but it wasn't proof against the kind of sounds I heard coming from the hallway a few minutes later."Goddammit, of course they match!" Richard was yelling at someone. "I know what I'm talking about!" And I know fingerprints, and I'm telling you there's no match," a tenor voice replied, just as forcefully. "It isn't even close! Here, look for yourself."The voices dropped to an indistinguishable murmur for a couple of minutes and. Now my lips are on your neck, as I have you take off your bra, but leave your shirt on, the open fabric almost, but not quite, covering your perfect breasts. I kiss you, and let my tongue trail down over your collarbone. My hands brush the edge of your boobs, squeezing gently, as my kisses move right between them. I avoid your nipples at first, my eyes taking in how erect they are, as my fingers circle them. Suddenly, I let my fingers brush over one of your very hard nipples, watching the.
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