Mrs. He kissed
her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume
her with passion. . ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and
addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his
own face. ”
One Friday, as she was sitting in the fifth row two
seats left of center in Sixth Period Study Hall, a dull hard
object thudded against the back of her head. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her,
he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last
she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay
awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. “Don’t you know, child, that this is
torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?”
Her face had become almost like a marble image. Stars
appeared in the periphery of her vision. What he needed was not a food
but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue
and throat. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. She thought about just asking him to take
116
her to his place and get it over with, but she reconsidered
and decided to attempt to get to know him better.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 04-07-2024 07:58:29