She is so tired and her mind has been on him so much that she really cannot be sure of her own mind. “Are you really here?”The man grins. “That�...�s an odd question to ask.”“Well, it’s even odder if you are,” she replies.“I call your boss up earlier and asked if he’d let you get off early,” he says, grinning.“You did what?”“Yeah you know, one businessman to another,” he continues, unhindered by her outburst. “He said I was a bad influence on you and that it’s my fault I lost you as an employee.. "Owww! Motherfucker!" I shook my right hand. "Jesus, that fucking hurts!"The girls watched me dance around the alley. I put the filter in full-silence mode--I didn't want to know what they thought of me as they heard me whine about my aching hand. Aching hands! Punching Daddy Horse in the stomach with the gun in my left hand hurt that hand too.The problem with being in transition between a reacting agent and an acting agent is that you can react then stop to consider whether thinking about the. I grip the plimsoll in my right hand and bring it down hard onto her left buttock. Her naked body shudders. Already there is a scarlet imprint of the sole. Again I swing the slipper onto her buttock with a resounding whack. She moans… but takes it well. I notice the contrast between her reddening left cheek and her pale untouched right cheek – that will soon change I think cruelly. I hit her as hard as I can and her nude body recoils with the blow. She starts to sniffle but, it’s not over… yet.. I fucked him and fucked him. There was no other place for her. Could she stand the cold? Maybe she could wrap some towels around herself. What would happen when other people needed to use the toilet?More knocking. It seemed to reverberate off the tiles. Even the sounds hurt her. Sharp noises ricocheting off the walls. Margaret pressing her palms to her temples. Hammers in her head."Margie?" It was Judith, the hostess, her friend. Margaret looked at the door for a moment and pulled more tightly.
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