Smile For The Camera

"They're following you," she whispers in post-coital languor.
"How?" I kiss her. With her, information exchange is magnificent.
She giggles as if I had said something sweet. "Cameras on the window." I know better than to let my gaze waft towards it. "And a chip in your anus," she grins.
I blush, remembering her fingers…
"Thanks," I huff. "We strike on Thursday at three."
Now she has all the information - no reason to linger in the intimacy to fool surveilance.
It hurts to see her get up instantly. She doesn't know information is just part of the deal for me.