“I just told you I didn’t book a massage,” said Tapiwa firmly.
“Doctor Oboto did it for you; he was very insistent that you would enjoy the relaxation and said that he will be with you very soon as he needs to talk to you,” replied the African girl.
“Very well,” her suspicions partly allayed, she headed into the room and looked around. It was a normal treatment room with two beds side by side. She stripped to her bra and pants getting under the towel and taking care to keep her knife handy. The door opened and a white female masseur entered. “Are you comfortable?” she asked.
“Yes thank you,” said Tapiwa.
“Good then I’ll begin.”
Years of finely honed instinct for survival saved her from death. She reacted quickly but too late to totally avoid the deadly karate chop across the back of h
