The day came and I arrived at his apartment on the first floor of an older 1920's vintage apartment house. I rang the buzzer and a man answered: older...(40?), buffed, wearing soccer shorts and a T-shirt. He extended his hand for a "real guy" handshake and welcomed me in. His massage table was set up in what had originally been the dining room. The curtains were closed so the area was dark, and there was an elaborate aquarium next to the table, with many exotic fish and the gurgling sound of the. However, when I finally met my neighbour face-to-face, I found myself waiting with anticipation for any interaction with her (a single lady in her 40s). Especially considering the fact that she was slim, relatively fit, drank quite a bit, and seemed to rarely wear a bra when she was home and out working on her yard or washing her car, etc.When my wife and I first met our neighbour, I will call her J, she was in the little swatch of grass that constituted her “front yard” working on some. She is uncertain about that. Most likely she trusted Alphinaud enough not to ask her to do anything over the top. Normally, he wouldn’t, of course. Normally.“The next time you wake up, you will ask Alphinaud about the favor you owe him. After all, he is willing to sacrifice his precious, personal time to help you. In return, it should only be fair if he asks something equivalent from you as well, do you agree?” He purposely used the words ‘something equivalent’. Of course, he meant ‘something. I try not to laugh as he screams in disgust and anger and lashes out at me, but since he is now quite slippery all he can do is tumble to the floor in a puddle of filth while I swing a belay pin hard against his head. He is out of action for some time to come. The man standing in front of you starts to step towards me pointing his gun and trying not to shoot his boss. Naturally, you are ready to take advantage of the situation and you grab a skillet and CLANG! There goes two. I know I haven’t.