The Woman

She came silently and gracefully into my office. She was wearing demure, conservative clothes that covered all her body. Though they were concealed in her long black skirt, I noticed that she had great legs. You can always tell if a woman’s got killer legs from the confident way she swings her hips.
She walked with her nose up, swaying her hips provocatively, stepping delicately on the floor, as if the ground she was stepping on revolted her, as if between her legs she possessed the greatest jewel in the world.
She came to a stop in front of my work desk. She had a flawlessly smooth face and was easily the most beautiful black woman I had ever laid my eyes on. Her perfume told me that she was an expensive woman…
‘Hi, I’m Pamela Slate.’
She sat down, crossed her legs and dropped her handbag to the floor. ‘The girl at Reception said I could come in.’
‘Mrs. Slate, how may I help you?’
‘I’m accused of murdering my husband.’ She was a straight talker, staring at me with her attractive brown eyes, her face creased in a serious expression. ‘I would like you to prove my innocence.’
Those words were the beginning of a relationship that would bind us forever…