Blake Baxter was his name. The name rolled off her tongue. Blake Baxter.

The next day they went to the restaurant together. Blake looked forward to showing her the chicken. But of course it wasn't chicken tuesday anymore. He looked sad but cheered up quick when the waiter announced that it was seabass wednesday.

They ate bass alongside potatoes. Parsley sprinkled ontop of the seared spuds. They drank glasses of red wine and looked out into the sea together.

Blake was excited to go to the bar again after dinner. After having gone his whole life without drinking a drop of whiskey, it had overnight become his thing.

He liked single malt scotch neat. Sipping it at a moderate speed. The drunk it gave him was of a cleaner type. Sharper and in the zone. Rather than a more sluggish stupor of beer or wine.

After dinner Imogen first went to her room to pee. She let him inside. He listened to her urine hit the water. She was very comfortable around him. She might invite him up after the bar this night. She trusted him so much that she even kept her handgun out in the room instead of taking it with her into the bathroom. This scared him. What was she preparing for?

The toilet flushed. Water ran and then she came out. "Ready for some whiskey?"