and the man stirred. He turned, put his arm around her. Seconds passed, his breathing deepened. Tommy Carmellini realized he was sweating. Perspiration was trickling down his nose, down his cheeks. He dared not move----- If I don't relax, she's going to smell me! The seconds dragged. She adjusted her position in the bed ... and finally, little by little, her breathing slowed and grew deeper. Carmellini began moving toward the open door. He didn't walk, he flowed, gently, steadily, smoothly----- On the balcony he debated if he should close the door. If it made a noise now ... no! The risk was too great. After scanning the other balconies and the apartment buildings across the street to ensure he didn't have an audience, Carmellini went over the rail. He leaned back, checked the balcony below as best he could, then lowered himself onto the railing. Balancing carefully, he released his grip on the wrought-iron slats above and coiled himself to go down another floor. In half a minute he was standing on the street.
