horny. Next to the Asian spa is a pawn shop and a dollar store. Maybe, while I wait, I’ll go into the dollar
store and grab something.
No,
I need to sit here, and wait and watch.
And
think.
About
an Asian Spa in an inner-city neighborhood.
Doesn’t
add up.
A
plump Latina woman with two screaming kids emerges from the dollar store
pushing a shopping cart full of items. Looks like she may have bought the entire
store. She begins loading it all into a ten-year old gray minivan.
The
guys in the blue Buick continue munching on their donuts.
From
my vantage point across the street, I can see the space between the strip mall
and the school next door.
I
see a tall man walking with a briefcase from behind the mall to the school.
Something strikes me about him. Looks about fifty, maybe sixty. Goatee and glasses. Dressed in ratty college professor
clothes. Badly-fitting corduroys. He knocks on a side
door, it opens, and he disappears inside.
I
get a strong sense of sexual energy from him.
What
the fuck was that? Must be low blood sugar.
I
look over at the guys in the Buick. They’re talking, throwing back the donuts,
and watching the door to the Asian Spa.
Hmm,
wonder if they sit in the same spot every day. If they do, they probably can’t
see the space between the two buildings from their angle.
Whatever.
Watch and gather info, Sofia.
At
eleven-thirty, the tall college professor-like guy emerges from the door to the
charter school and crosses the space between the two buildings and disappears
in back of the mall.
Who
is that guy? Looks way out of place.
And what was that sexual energy I sensed from
him?
Then
it hits me.
My
pussy may have solved a mystery that my brain was having trouble with. Good
girl.
Oh my God. Oh my God. I think I know. I think I’ve
figured this out. Holy shit. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?
Five
minutes later, Colton Stark emerges from the Asian Spa in his light blue shirt
and gray pants. He must have everything tailored because it all fits his frame
so perfectly.
His
gorgeous muscular frame. With that tribal tattoo. And those hard abs.
I
shake my head.
He
gets in his car, starts it up, and drives away. The blue Buick follows him.
I
stay parked, waiting for the college professor to emerge. Unsurprisingly, he
doesn’t.
Could
that have been Colton Stark in a disguise?
Yes.
My pussy doesn’t lie.
I
wait another ten minutes, then decide to take action.
First
thing I do is walk around the entire strip mall from the left side, crossing
the back of it along the concrete wall.
I
walk out front, past the Asian spa, past the pawn shop ,
and into the dollar store.
Nothing
but shoppers.
I
walk across the parking lot, continuously scanning the faces of everyone I see.
Everybody looks like they belong.
I
walk over to the charter school.
It’s
a two-story cinderblock building that used to be offices, I remember. It was
all-white back then. The new mural painting makes it distinctly Wynwood now. I look at the cartoon kids.
One
is a black boy in a baker hat holding a loaf of bread. Another is a Latino boy
in a chef’s hat holding a plate of food. A little white girl with blonde hair
builds a table with hammer and nails. An Asian girl in coveralls is bent over a
car’s engine under its hood. All of them are smiling at me.
I
walk back along 2nd Avenue to the front entrance. The sign says Bright Eyes
Academy.
I
open the door and walk inside.
The
inside is old Art Deco-style with lots of glass blocks. A big round concrete
stairwell leads up to a corridor on the second floor. Directly ahead of me is a
round desk built into the wall. Several stacks of brochures are on top of it.
To my right is a hallway with doors to rooms on the left, glass block on the
right facing the street.
There
is a security guard in a brown uniform seated at the desk. He rises when I walk
in.
He’s
out of shape. Bad comb-over with a big moustache. Revolver on his right hip.
“May
I help you, miss?” he
store and grab something.
No,
I need to sit here, and wait and watch.
And
think.
About
an Asian Spa in an inner-city neighborhood.
Doesn’t
add up.
A
plump Latina woman with two screaming kids emerges from the dollar store
pushing a shopping cart full of items. Looks like she may have bought the entire
store. She begins loading it all into a ten-year old gray minivan.
The
guys in the blue Buick continue munching on their donuts.
From
my vantage point across the street, I can see the space between the strip mall
and the school next door.
I
see a tall man walking with a briefcase from behind the mall to the school.
Something strikes me about him. Looks about fifty, maybe sixty. Goatee and glasses. Dressed in ratty college professor
clothes. Badly-fitting corduroys. He knocks on a side
door, it opens, and he disappears inside.
I
get a strong sense of sexual energy from him.
What
the fuck was that? Must be low blood sugar.
I
look over at the guys in the Buick. They’re talking, throwing back the donuts,
and watching the door to the Asian Spa.
Hmm,
wonder if they sit in the same spot every day. If they do, they probably can’t
see the space between the two buildings from their angle.
Whatever.
Watch and gather info, Sofia.
At
eleven-thirty, the tall college professor-like guy emerges from the door to the
charter school and crosses the space between the two buildings and disappears
in back of the mall.
Who
is that guy? Looks way out of place.
And what was that sexual energy I sensed from
him?
Then
it hits me.
My
pussy may have solved a mystery that my brain was having trouble with. Good
girl.
Oh my God. Oh my God. I think I know. I think I’ve
figured this out. Holy shit. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?
Five
minutes later, Colton Stark emerges from the Asian Spa in his light blue shirt
and gray pants. He must have everything tailored because it all fits his frame
so perfectly.
His
gorgeous muscular frame. With that tribal tattoo. And those hard abs.
I
shake my head.
He
gets in his car, starts it up, and drives away. The blue Buick follows him.
I
stay parked, waiting for the college professor to emerge. Unsurprisingly, he
doesn’t.
Could
that have been Colton Stark in a disguise?
Yes.
My pussy doesn’t lie.
I
wait another ten minutes, then decide to take action.
First
thing I do is walk around the entire strip mall from the left side, crossing
the back of it along the concrete wall.
I
walk out front, past the Asian spa, past the pawn shop ,
and into the dollar store.
Nothing
but shoppers.
I
walk across the parking lot, continuously scanning the faces of everyone I see.
Everybody looks like they belong.
I
walk over to the charter school.
It’s
a two-story cinderblock building that used to be offices, I remember. It was
all-white back then. The new mural painting makes it distinctly Wynwood now. I look at the cartoon kids.
One
is a black boy in a baker hat holding a loaf of bread. Another is a Latino boy
in a chef’s hat holding a plate of food. A little white girl with blonde hair
builds a table with hammer and nails. An Asian girl in coveralls is bent over a
car’s engine under its hood. All of them are smiling at me.
I
walk back along 2nd Avenue to the front entrance. The sign says Bright Eyes
Academy.
I
open the door and walk inside.
The
inside is old Art Deco-style with lots of glass blocks. A big round concrete
stairwell leads up to a corridor on the second floor. Directly ahead of me is a
round desk built into the wall. Several stacks of brochures are on top of it.
To my right is a hallway with doors to rooms on the left, glass block on the
right facing the street.
There
is a security guard in a brown uniform seated at the desk. He rises when I walk
in.
He’s
out of shape. Bad comb-over with a big moustache. Revolver on his right hip.
“May
I help you, miss?” he
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