Womens erotic fiction
Kamiko, he said. Did you suspect her all along?” My koota bitch is subjected to a pelvic radiograph. Afterwards, I stand on my heels in the small, darkened cubicle, looking at the film on the viewing screen. There he stands, too, with his cheekbones emerald in the peculiar light, and his hair, which is silver in daylight, looks phosphorescent. I resist this. I am resisting this Doctor with the X-ray eyes who can examine my marrow with ease. He sees Marthas marrow, every perfect corpuscle of it. A breakdown of function and structure, said Colles. An absolute lack of communication. Isnt it so?” Mr. Taylor, a trim, blond young man, who looked like an ad for expensive shirts, listened carefully, said nothing. Melchior looked impressed—and uncomprehending. Colles took his arm just above the elbow, pressed it. “Look at that fellow over there,” he said. “The one in the brown suit—see? Now: can I communicate with him? Or can you? On any save the most primitive level? No. Impossible, I assure you. I’ve only to look at him to know.” The crowd flowed across the street. The men in the car watched the vanishing brown suit. Under separate cover I am sending you a copy of my report entitled,The Algernon-Gordon Effect: A Study of Structure and Function of Increased Intelligence, which I would like to have you read and have published. I noticed her the way I noticed the rest. No more. No less. She was pretty enough, a medium-sized girl, nicely built, short black hair, pleasant lips, nothing special except for fine breasts. She dressed well, much like the others, in thick sweaters and plaid skirts, long black stockings and Capezio sandals. In the middle forties. Mr. Gallinger, the Matriarch is waiting inside for you to be introduced. She has consented to open the Temple records for your study. She paused here to pat her hair and squirm a little. Did my gaze make her nervous? "Yes." When I finally came to the Star-pit, myself, I hadnt had a drink in years. But working there out on the galaxys edge did something to me— something to the part that grows I'd once talked about on the beach with Antoni. "Ah, would you call your schools liberal?" Mr. Piper asked. Motor activity impaired. I keep tripping over things, and it becomes increasingly difficult to type. An awful, trapped feeling seized him. He pounded on the wall and shouted. No one answered. The tunnels around him swallowed the sounds without an echo. I took my worthless story, tore it in half and dropped it into the wastebasket. Sergeant Lazeers bad guess about the identity of his moonlight road runner had made me look like an incompetent jackass. I vowed to check all facts, get all names right, and never again indulge in glowing, strawberry-flake prose. The city, and the people in it, were allfalling apart. (. . .Passing through the outskirts of the city, she thought. Its as though everything were traveling so fast that the solid stuff couldn’t stand it and were going to pieces under the strain, cornices blowing off and windows caving in. . . ) The Ox said,And the dynamite, the detonators, the fuses? I am going to blow up the transportation bridge. There was a whooshing sound as the hearth logs burst into flame. Amity turned, saw Sabina holding thekaiken, and said,That handle is beautifully carved, isnt it. But then she came closer and her brows knitted. “What could have happened to the blade? Burton will be furious when he sees that it’s been broken off. It’s one of his favorite pieces.”.
