One could get depressed in the realization that the women only want me for one....big..... thing......don't say it.

Spying, slyly sneaking, seeing the suspect. Could he be the liason?

Slipping along the back wall, honing in on him. He could have the guarded and internationally sought secret recipie for the Aqua concoction.... the essence of life, they say.... Moving in. Someone calls him 'Quatara', a sleuth's name if I ever heard one. Jotting it all down with invisible ink.... The suspect is male. He won't say it. It's these Egyptian women that want me for it.....

I KNOW he won't say..........