Thank you for coming to annlacaze.com The website is being built now annlacaze.com was created: August 14 2012 18:20:40. Today Monday 20 May 2013 13:38:39 It wasn't far from Massachusetts Avenue, which more or less bisects the city from northwest to southeast, and all the embassies, missions and consulates are in the area, mainly in the northwest section. As I filtered forward I saw the problem. The junction ahead was sealed off by D.C. police bikers, and we were being rerouted to the right. As I made the turn, a fleet of black Lincolns with darkened windows screamed through the crossroads. At the rear of the convoy was a bunch of four wheel-drive Chevy escorts and two ambulances, just in case the principal cut his finger. It looked as if either Netanyahu or Arafat was already in town. The grid system in D.C. works with the lettered streets running east west and the numbers north-south. I found the junction I wanted easily enough, but there was no way I could stop. The one-way circuit on M street had a mind of its own, and Metal Mickey was right, parking was a gang-fuck. The street was lined with cars that had a firm grip on their meters and weren't letting go for anyone; another three laps of the block and I finally found a Nissan pulling away from a space on M, just past the junction I wanted. I locked up, fed the meter and walked. Bread and Chocolate turned out to be a small coffee shop on the street level of an office and apartment building, just fifteen meters farther down on the left side of 23rd. There was another coffee shop opposite, attached to a grocery store, but this was the better of the two. The interior looked so clean I felt I should have scrubbed up before going in. Long glass display cases were filled with Danishes and a million different muffins and sandwiches, and on the wall behind them was a coffee selection menu that went on forever. Everything looked so perfect I wondered if people were allowed to buy anything and mess up the displays. The tables were white marble, small and round, just big enough to seat three. I sat facing the glass shop front and ordered a mocha a small one after the mother lode at the airport. The place was about a quarter full, mostly with smartly dressed office workers talking shop. I nursed my caffeine for the ten minutes that remained before our RV Right on time, in he walked, and a beach ball he certainly was. He had skin that was so clear it was virtually see-through, and black hair that was slightly thinning on top, which he'd gelled and combed back to make it look thicker. On his cheerful, chubby face he had fashionably round, black-rimmed glasses, behind which a pair of clear blue eyes were looking twice their natural size because of the thickness of the lenses. He was wearing a shiny, gray, single-breasted suit, bright blue shirt and red tie, all set off nicely by a little burn-fluff goatee beard. He must have been about forty pounds overweight, but was tall with it, over six feet. His jacket had all three buttons done up and was straining to contain the load. He spotted me just as easily and came over, hand outstretched. "Well, hellooo. You must be Nick." I shook his hand, noticing his soft skin and immaculate, almost feminine, fingernails. We sat down and the waiter came over immediately maybe Metal Mickey was a regular. Pointing at my coffee, he looked up and smiled. "I'll have one of those, please." The aroma of the mocha was no match for his aftershave. The moment the waiter was out of earshot, he leaned forward, unnaturally close to me. "Well then, all I've been told is to help you while Sarah's away." I was about to reply, but he was off again. "I must say, I'm quite excited about it. I've never been involved with someone else's PV review before. Just my own, of course. Anyway, so here I am, all yours!" He finished in a grand gesture, with his hands in the air in mock surrender. Grabbing my chance, I said, "Thanks, that certainly makes things a lot easier. Tell me, when was the last time you saw her? I'm not too sure how long she's been away." "Oh, about three weeks ago. But what's new? She's here, there and everywhere, isn't she?" The coffee came and Metal Mickey's head turned as he said thanks to the waiter. The light caught it just right and I could see the scarring where the plate had been inserted an area about three inches by two of slightly raised skin. I just hoped that no one on a nearby table answered their cellular phone, because he'd probably leap up and start doing the conga. © ISPmanager licensed