‘Don’t leave me, Mikhail.’ She said, reaching for his hand that she gripped tightly as the tears ran down her face. ‘Don’t leave me… Pleas... don’t leave me.’ ~~~~~ The air was cold, moistened with the approaching storm, as the tall, lanky, blonde haired Russian stood alone on the loading dock. Everything about the evening felt bad. The shit storm was only just beginning, he mused to himself. What had begun as a night of fun and excitement on a rare night off on the Boss’s birthday devolved into. The voice of the answering machine, or perhaps it was voice-mail, prompted her to leave her name and number. After a slight hesitation, she had done so. This was on a Thursday afternoon, and she finally received a return call on her cell phone the following morning. The caller, Peter, told her that he was returning her call, and that he supposed she was calling in response to his ad in the paper. Susan responded that she hadindeed .“I’d like to set up a meeting with you, in a public place on. More

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