It took Ned two days to get me binoculars. The stained woman came and went several times bringing more food and more clothing as if she was moving in. To a hotel? But now that I had my binoculars, she hadn't come home once. Perhaps she knew of her intrigued window-gazer.

Ned came back later that night with some Hu's Szechwan and dragged me, trapped in my chair, away from the window. He was hot and I was horny so it didn't take much. He looked great. He was growing his hair for a new undercover case, which made it wave uncontrollably, tres sexy. His blue eyes intensified on me and succeeded in shaping the necessities for a protracted sexual encounter.

Hours later we ate shrimp, kung pao chicken, and spicy dumplings. Once my stomach was full I looked up at Ned and couldn't remember the desire I must have felt for him earlier when our bodies enticed and fulfilled each other. How could that be? I knew I wanted to make love to him. I must have. I did and I felt satisfied, but now I wondered how he could have ever sealed my sexual abhor. He was passive and annoying. He chewed his food too many times and laughed awkwardly and inappropriately. He spoke of his day trying to impress me, only each word made my respect for him dissipate all the more. We had just made love and yet I was beginning to hate this man. This man. Was that the problem?

"...But the captain wants me to stay. It's nice to be wooed by two departments. It makes you feel like you're doing a good job. I think..."

"I'm exhausted." My inability to control my rudeness was not unfamiliar.

"Well, look, I got a late shift tomorrow."

"Yeah..." I felt my bowels demanding not to go unnoticed. Being unable to walk around really screws with your daily functions.

"Listen, if you don't want me to stay..."

"No, I want you to. I'm just edgy, that's all." Ned smiled and I went to the bathroom. It could be the hemorrhoids that were making me so grumpy, so it was time to hold my tongue.

More hours passed as Ned slept like a post surgical subject. My eyes stared hard at the ceiling. Finally, I slid off the bed and dragged myself back to the window picking up the binoculars along the way.

There she was waiting, like a lion waits patiently for prey, aloofly guarding her vista. It seemed as though she glared at me directly, but her attention was kept by nothing external. Her thoughts were inward and undisturbed by life around her.

She wore a pastel sheer dress that if I were in the room, I could probably see through. She smoked her cigarette determinedly as if every drag brought her closer to her conclusion. She lit another as soon as she smashed and twisted one in the black glass ashtray. Her black, stingy ungathered hair fell forward as she rolled the lighter and fire ignited another. She sat back again, but there was a quick look at the door. There must have been a knock. Before she answered, she put out her cigarette and grabbed her bag. She reached her hand in and pulled out a small revolver. She stood and walked to the door, passing the gun behind her. She opened the door a crack, revealing her visitor who quickly left-- leaving behind an 8X10 manila envelope.

She sat back on the couch, placing the gun on the coffee table, lighting another cig, and opening the contents of the envelope.