I glanced at the clock, confirming it was nine-thirty. Right on time. It seems that none of the fun stuff here starts before then.“So, how did you b...come a security guard, Shamir?” I asked my body guard as we walked away from my room.He glanced sheepishly at himself. He’s a hunk. “I was a lousy engineer,” he said. “One night I came in here to play cards and a guy at the table got pretty drunk and rowdy. I can usually tolerate that but he assaulted a woman at the table. I picked him up and threw. She led me up a couple steps and into an office behind the book check counter."Your situation must be pretty serious. Most women never follow up for what ever reason: they don't understand the message, they don't understand the clue to meet me, they can't find strength enough to try for help, or their sons intercept the card and punish them for even considering emotional support. Those who have, waited a week or more, and some of them didn't survive the interview." Interview?" My hopes sank.. More

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