CHAPTER THREE
Carl stared impatiently at the bear shaped wall clock ticking away inconsiderably slow. It read eight in the evening, thirty minutes past the time he had expected her to arrive. Since Thursday, he waited for this nighty, the want of possessing every inch of her, growing each night. What had he been thinking anyway? That she would want to have “dinner” with someone she was not exactly well acquainted with? Standing up, he eyed the untouched dinner that he had exerted all his energy in preparing. Dammit! First time he actually made dinner for a woman and she did not bother to show up. Should he have taken her number? No, he’d wanted the suspence-the thrill of showing her he wanted her but at the same time not giving too much away. If Lance learnt about how he’d been stood up,
