The tongue darted across his upper lip as if he
were already savoring the scotch. Before I had the chance
to suggest that we wait until we had discussed our
business, a young woman appeared. I thought it odd at the
time that the door had not made a sound announcing her
entry. She was young, a girl really, not more than twenty
years of age. Dr. Wertenberg handed her a small key.
Where he had obtained the key, I don't know. Since we
had taken seats, except for one occasion in which he had
waved a finger at me, he had kept his hands pressed
together and held against his chin. Yet, somehow the key
had found its way into his possession and been presented
to the girl.
She performed the barest of curtsies and accepted
the key without a word spoken by either of them.
Apparently, this ritual had been performed before as she
turned and left the room. My eyes followed her as she
moved. She was a full-figured, athletic looking child. Her
steps were graceful. The backs of her legs were delicately
muscled. Her hair was long, brown and piled on top of her
head in a loose bun. A silk scarf of deep scarlet held the
bun in place and extended to the nape of her neck. The
blouse she wore was simple and white, well-tailored to her
body and revealed an expanse of soft, tender skin as it cut
low on her back. I hadn't noticed if her face was pretty.
Dr. Wertenberg smiled at me, this time without
exposing the yellow teeth. He nodded once as if to say
'when we have had our drink, then we will talk'. That was
my interpretation and we sat, again in silence, waiting for
the girl to return.
She did shortly, carrying a silver tray containing a
very ornate, cut-crystal decanter and two similarly
patterned tumblers. The decanter was almost empty. The
8