Stumbling through the stale, hotel-like corridors in unaccustomed black patent heels, Mr. Mendelsohn again smoothed his skirt and adjusted the bag now...containing his male garments. Nervously, he poised a full minute outside HER door before summoning the courage to knock loudly. As he waited for a response, he glared hatefully at the small, handwritten placard reading: "Ms. Ursula Beckett". When he heard the clicking of her lock turning, he pushed hard against the door, forcing himself in with. I heard him come in. Lieutenant Željko was tumbling, his face frost bitten. I firmly gripped his waist and led him along the staircase to the room on the second floor. The room had already been warmed up for him. The lit lamp radiated soft yellow light. A bottle of water was on the bedside table in case he got thirsty. While we were climbing the stairs, he came around a bit and said he had to go to the washroom. I was waiting for him on the other side of the door. He must have been running his. More

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