It was all so detailed. And silent. Neither of us made a sound
louder than a grunt. Quieter than our sex noises. *Now* I wanted to
scream, *wanted* to wake up Link and Natalie, but I couldn't get a
breath.
"I worked one hand free and I reached for the erection that I could feel
just below my tits, reached as fast as a striking snake, grabbed it,
grabbed his balls, and I yanked and I squeezed like I was trying to tear
them off.
"I was.
"Now *he* was trying to get away and I had him cornered. I kept
squeezing. That's when he kicked me in the face. I was dazed. He kicked
me twice more, and I ran downstairs and got a parka from the closet and
ran out into the front yard and out to the park and hid in the bushes
until morning.
"He was asleep when I came back in, after Natalie and Link had gone
out. I found the knife beside the house and I went up to our room and I
stood there, by the window, listening to you talk to them, holding the
knife."
She plumped herself on the cushions and flapped her wings once, softly,
another puff of that warm air wafting over him. She picked up the tin
robot he'd given her from the coffee table and turned it over in her
hands, staring up its skirts at the tuna-fish illustration and the
Japanese ideograms.
"I had the knife, and I felt like I had to use it. You know Chekhov? 'If
a gun is on the mantle in the first act, it must go off in the third.
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