Closing the safe door quietly and with an expert spin of the dial, the black-clad woman straightened up, slinging the grip with her haul over her shoulder. She stood listening intently before moving towards the office door. Again, she waited, her ears straining, before gently prizing the door open and stepping silently into the corridor of darkened offices; she eased the door closed, calculating she had barely two minutes before the night-watchman made his rounds, trying the doors and checking the building was secure.
I was sure they'd be able to hear my heart thudding at the end of the road as I closed the telephone box door behind me, piled my stash of sixpence and shillings on the shelf above the phone directory, and wiped my sweaty palms down my baggy black trousers... from Only One Woman Christina Jones Jane Risdon.
Never a dull moment in my life. In the Music business, or whatever, there was always something to inspire my writing.