No, I wasn't from Prague (the only Czech city most Americans know of, if any) but a small village in the north called Zentac, which I pronounced as if...it ended in 'sh.' I had come to America as a student and now worked as a translator for a company doing business in eastern Europe. Eddie bought it all without question.All the time we were talking, I was wondering if he was going to be the one. I was pretty certain that he was in favor of it, and I wanted to, sort of. I mean... I'd never done. Nobody complained because it was refreshing to be free from the shackles of constant supervision and interference with their other responsibilities. In other words, they would be able to do the sort of things that had absolutely nothing to do with French Literature.Young Harry Higgins was reading a novel of dubious merit inside his textbook that had some interesting drawings of the main characters interacting with each other. It was not the sort of content that would be found on any responsible. But I hadn't decided yet if I was really going to pursue her. After all, she was taken.Luckily for me though, she made a move first. Before she left she handed me her business card, her personal cell phone number written on the back, and told me she'd like to hang out sometime. I figured she was just making a move towards a new friendship, but I was in for a pleasant surprise."I work from home so I'm available whenever," she informed me. "Just give me a call or e-mail me when you're free. I. “My husband is a good man, and I love him.” This last sentence was more to convince herself. He holds his finger up against her lips to stop her protests, his face changing to the more familiar intense stare. “Well Rebecca, I am not a good man, in fact I am the opposite of that, and I think you like that don’t you?” his voice is husky and low, and she can smell the brandy on his breath he had been drinking. “Yes,” the word exits her lips without thinking, how easily he managed to get her say.