Walter Robinson

She lit a cigarette and hugged her arms across her breasts, cupping one elbow in the palm of her left hand. He touched her lips with his fingertips. Her eyes were smiling and misty. "Go," Valya whispered. "Now. Hurry." He had become a giant to himself, a man who was fighting to capture a fresh, untouched, blossomy-haired, glory-eyed girl, far removed from the common orgies of common women. Then the last shreds of Anne's courage left her. "Oh, God," she cried, and ran out the door. Hubert is one of those men, you know. He poured more whiskey into the glass. Now the tears streamed down his cheeks uncontrollably. Margot put her arms around him and pressed her temple to his stooped head. For a long time she sobbed while, waiting patiently, he stroked her hair. "Oui, oui, oui." Her voice came rich and low. "I will be waiting for you forever, I cannot help myself." He stood there clenching and unclenching his fists. "Be yourself, baby." Nan closed her eyes tight, pretending that the man making love to her was youthful and handsome. Her body began to writhe. She nodded, arose, and kissed him. Sam dried his hard, solid body vigorously, picked up the gun, and then put it down with a shrug. He said, "What else is there you want to tell me?" She looked scrubbed and rosy, as if she had just stepped from the shower. "Surprise, darling," she said.