In the Devils' Room

Liam O’Grady stood at the wide table, in his pristine white shirt and neatly pressed deep blue trousers, looking for all the world like a model in a men’s fashion magazine. I made out Finn St Just who was lounging in a chair beside his brother.

The northerly light fell into the large room, pale and diffused, for the myriad glass panels were helping it to filter in slowly, and the aroma of cigarettes, leather, and whiskey greeted me.

*

This was a man’s den.

The overwhelming masculine power that radiated from the walls, made me shrink in alarm.

There was nothing soft and feminine here.

And I bet, I thought, my throat clenching in terror, the walls must be soundproofed too!

I don't know why I made that observation.

My fertile imagination was working overtime.

But the feeling of being totally at the mercy of the men in the room brought on a feeling of fear.

Of helplessness...

*

This room had a dark wooden floor, and no carpeting to disguise the beauty of the polished wood. The ceiling,