Page 43 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

“Of course handsome,” I say.

“Mrs Officer by Lil Wayne,” he says. I remind myself to breathe. There’s no way he could know.

I take out my phone and set the song to play. He studies me as if he’s put me under a microscope.

“Do you know what my favourite outfit of yours is?”

“Please take a seat, make yourself comfortable and tell me.”

He exhales deeply. “Your police uniform. You look so at home in it.”

I smile sweetly, reminding myself again to breathe. I begin to rotate my hips as the lyrics hang heavy in my ears. ‘all she wants me to do is fuck the police’.

“Are you comfortable?” I ask sauntering over.

“Yes,’’ he replies, pushing his hands and his size.

I begin to work myself between his thighs as looks at my body appreciatively.

“What do you think Liam would say about this now?”

“I think he wouldn’t say much with his lips, but a lot with his fists. Does that turn you on, being a bad girl?”

I twist my tongue around my lips, allowing it to slowly skirt my bottom lip before I bite it and suck it into my mouth.

“How long have you lived in Dublin?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Since 2001,” he says.

“Do you know anything about why Liam was arrested this evening?” I ask.

“Something to do with the cold case murder back in 2002.” He says his eyes trained on my bra as I unclip it.

“Did you know the person who was murdered?”

“Loosely,” he says, as I turn to rotate in his face, pushing my hand slowly down my legs until I reach the floor. She had it coming,” he says.

My breath catches in the back of my throat as I wind my myself back up and turn to face him.

“Why? What did she do?” I ask.

“From what I heard, she stole a lot of merchandise. She intended to break out on her own.”

“Who did she steal from?”

“Why are you so interested?” Admir asks, cocking his head.

“I want to know if I’m dating a murderer or not.” I say flinging my bra to the floor, the air conditioning chilling my nipples.

He stares at my chest and says, “She stole a kilo from the Albanians. We don’t like thieves.”

“So, you think your crew had her murdered?”

“No one ever admitted to it, but that’s what the rumour was. I never heard anyone confess. And Albanians love to drink vodka and confess their crimes to other. I could help the police solve at least 300 murders in Dublin,” he says laughing.

The last lyric plays out. ‘I’m through talking so I’m gunna let you face.’

“You should dress.” He smiles revealing a gold incisor tooth. “Now I will drive you home.” Admir brushes down his black suit.

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