He slows down as he softens and pulls out of my mouth, then he does something that totally surprises me he bends down and gently kisses my lips throug... his bandana.As I lay on the table top he stands takes the bandana off my book and blindfolds me again. I am exhausted from the workout he has done to me but he seems to have other ideas. As I lay there I feel his hands on my ankles and then he pulls me and instead of my head over the edge of the table he pulls me so my knees are dangling over. The suspect had just seated his replacement magazine when the first bullet found him. Considering the four locals and a handful of FBI agents who were all firing, from both sides, it was impossible to tell who’d made the first hit, but it didn’t’ matter as several more followed close on its heels.Taylor, Crawford, and Whitaker all got out at the same time, each crouching low as shouts of ‘check fire’ were shouted out from multiple directions. No one lowered their guns, but at least they stopped. Adamantly refusing the temptations and inevitable invitations offered by work colleagues, she invariably spent lonely nights in her suite after eating in the first class restaurant downstairs.That particular day she had been involved in some intense discussions at work, the rivalry between between her and her peers for the approval of the main board of their individual suggestions had spilled over into some rather heated debates and she was extremely tense when she had arrived back at her hotel. It was Laurence who had told me how the restof the French had felt about Paris because she had seen it and felt it as aParisienne. She had showed me it by the brazen way she overtook traffic onthe right before turning left in her car with her 75 plaqued'immatriculation and with her disdain for the right wing politics of thevineyard owners of Burgundy.Yes, Laurence was, like me "une ?trang?re".Only I did not know it yet. I still thought of myself as "un ?tranger"although with my poor French.