Desperate Women!
seven stories
by
Michael Hemmingson
Published by The Obelisk Library
Smashwords Edition
2012
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy
Copyright © 2012 Michael Hemmingson
All rights reserved
Previously published in print paperback by The Olympia Press, 2010.
Cover by Apache Pix, used with permission
Contents
Vegas Slut
Valentine Sinner
Tinsel Town Shame
Long Island Iced Tea
A Sexual Education
Her New Daddy
I Paid the Whore
Acknowledgements: Some of these fictions first appeared in Fiction International, Hardboiled Magazine, and the website, Beaten to a Pulp.
VEGAS SLUT
Rick, Frank, and I were at the blackjack table. The free drinks were always the best, even if they were small drinks. We were waving at the waitress a lot, demanding more.
We were having a good time.
A woman joined our table. She was in her early thirties, wore a black sweater, black skirt. She was attractive enough, a little too plenty in the rear for my tastes shoulder-length dark blonde hair. We were happy to have her join the game.
She drank as much as we did, if not more.
“I’ve been on a roll all night,” she told us. “My luck has been real good. The money is coming, I can feel it, this is my night.”
She surpassed us in drinks.
She started off good, but that quickly changed. She placed high bets. We couldn’t match her in both alcohol and gambler’s risk.
“I’m broke,” she announced, like it was a surprise.
She explored her purse, couldn’t find any more money.
She had to sit the next hand out, dazed.
Frank, next to her, won the hand, bringing in eighty bucks.
She stared at his chips, licked her lips.
She leaned toward Frank, said something to him I couldn’t hear. He looked at her, thinking, and nodded. He gathered his chips.
“Be back,” he said, and left with the woman.
Rick and I looked at each other.
“Well, well,” aid Rick.
We played several more hands. Frank and the woman came back. She had chips to play with. Frank didn’t meet our eyes, went back into the game. He’d been married for seven years.
She lost all her chips immediately, reckless in her bets. She called for a drink. She leaned over to Rick and whispered to him.
He gathered his chips and left with her.
Frank and I looked at each other and Frank flushed. Rick had been married for five years.
“Well, well,” I said.
Rick and the woman came back twenty minutes later. I had a new drink. She sat next to me and smiled. I smiled back. She was looking prettier every time, or maybe the booze was finally getting to me.
She lost all her chips in no time.
“Damn,” she said.
She sat the next hand out.
* * *
“Twenty bucks,” she said; “all I really need is twenty bucks and I just know I can get back on the right track here.”
She leaned toward me and whispered something—okay, so I gathered my chips and left with her.
We went up to the fifth floor of the hotel, where she had a room. I’d been married for twelve years.
She went to the bathroom first.
I examined the room. An ordinary room, a suitcase by the bed.
She came out, fresh lipstick. “You can pay me with money or chips,” she said. “Your friends just wanted blowjobs, and that’s thirty. You want something else, we can negotiate. I’ll do anything, doesn’t matter how bizarre or kinky, as long as you have the money or chips.”
I said, “You do this just to gamble?”
Must have hit some arduous in her. She began to cry. I went to her, put my arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay.” I felt stupid.
She wiped at her tears with an arm and smiled.
In another story, where I might have been noble, nothing would’ve happened. I might’ve even talked her out of this bad situation. But I was on vacation, I was drunk, I’d been fighting with my wife….
I gave this woman forty bucks worth of chips and she sucked my cock. The extra ten was for licking my balls a bit.
“No,” she said after, “I’m not a professional whore. I have an ex-husband and kids, in a city I left months ago. I’ve been here ever since, drinking and gambling. Sometimes I get there, I get real close, and I know my Big Chance is coming. I have to catch it, and I’ll catch it any way I can.”
VALENTINE SINNER
Date:
Sun, 15 Feb
From:
CyberStud
Subject:
LastNight
To:
HotGurl33
Last
night was the most fantastic experience I have ever had. Our chance
meeting at the Valentine’s Day dance was incredible luck! I could
tell that you were a little uncomfortable with the rather revealing
dress you wore. Still, even with your initial shyness, you captured
me completely. After a few dances, I knew that we were to have a very
special romance. I talked you into sneaking out with me and we went
down the street to the little, dingy gutter motel. You were like a
beautiful red rose there in the dim light. When you stripped for me,
it was like watching a Hollywood movie star.
When
I mounted you it was a pleasure worthy of enjoyment by a king. If I
was just a little rough, it was because of the passions your
fantastic young body inspired. Each stroke was a journey through wild
passion like a safari into an unknown jungle of sin. I could feel you
all around me and it was as if you were the only woman in the world.
You were Eve to my Adam, a photon to my atom. I could tell that you
were aroused too, as your sighs and moans of passionate lust drove me
to erotic heights of near shame! When I got my full length into your
hot, wet love tunnel, I could feel you swept off of the cliff of
passion, to float satisfied through the air. I did not yet join you,
as I had need of more of your sexual magic. I continued to explore
the depths of your sexuality until we both exploded in frantic frenzy
of delight. I shall never forget that moment, our first night and
hopefully not our last. Afterward, we lay together in a perfect
harmony that I must have again. Can we meet at the Milk Bar next
Saturday at, say, 9 p.m.? Until then, my very own Hot Girl…
Your
CyberStud
Date:
Mon, 16 Feb
From:
HotGurl33
Subject:
Max’s Bar
To:
CyberStud
I
want you to know that I was a little swept away on Valentine’s Day.
I normally do not commit myself to the degree I did with you that
night. I must admit that it was a fantastic experience!
I
will meet you at the Milk Bar next Saturday at 9:30 p.m.-ish. You
will have to be a little patient with your Hot Gurl. I do not want to
get into this thing too fast, as I have been hurt before.
Your
HG
Date:
Tue, 17 Feb
From:
CyberStud
Subject:
LastNight
To:
Trollop03
Last
Friday was the most fantastic experience I have ever had. Our chance
meeting at the Pre-Valentine’s Day Mixer downtown was incredible
luck! You looked so calm and cool in your pretty silk lady suit. I
could tell that you had fire behind the ice!.Even with your initial
rather cool style, you captured me completely. After a few dances, I
knew that we were to have a very special romance. I talked you into
sneaking out with me and we went down the street to a little, dingy
gutter motel that did not really do our love justice. You were like a
beautiful red rose there in the dim light. When you stripped for me,
it was like watching a Hollywood movie star!
When
I mounted you it was a pleasure worthy of enjoyment by a king. If I
was just a little rough, it was because of the passions your silken
body inspired! Each stroke was a journey through wild passion like
climbing a dangerous mountain in a foreign land. I could feel you all
around me and it was as if you were the only woman in the world. I
could tell that you were aroused too, as your sighs and moans of
passion drove me to erotic heights of sinful lust! When I got my full
length into your hot, wet love tunnel, I could feel you swept off of
the cliff of passion, and you soared away like a sexy bird. I did not
yet join you, as I had need of more of your sexual magic. I continued
to explore the depths of your sexuality until we both exploded in
passion. I shall never forget that moment and our first night
together, hopefully not our last. Afterward, we lay together in a
perfect harmony that I must have again. Can we meet at the Martini
Bar this Friday at , say, 7 p.m,.? Until then, my wanton trollop!
Your
C-Stud
Date:
Tue, 17 Feb
From:
Trollop03
Subject:
Martini Bar
To:
CyberStud
I
want you to know that I was a little swept away on the night of the
V-Day Mixer. I normally do not go to a motel with a man I just met.
Wow -- it was a very sexy experience!
I
can’t make 7:00 p.m. but how about meeting @ the Martini Bar Friday
at 10 p,m.? But look -- do not expect so much on our second date. We
need to take a little time here to get to know each other. Thinking
of you until Friday!
Your
Trollop with a Laptop
Date:
Tue, 17 Feb
From:
HappyGal
Subject:
Roses
To:
CyberStud
I’m still riding high on the roses you sent for Valentine’s Day to my office. Oh, the other girls were so jealous and they still are. “Who is he?” they keep asking but what am I going to say, a man I have never met and only talk to on-line and lives across the country sends me a dozen long stem red roses! Ha! They might say you’re a cyber-stalker but I know better. After all these months I feel like I’ve known you all my life. Isn’t that weird?
I keep reading and re-reading the saved chat log of our cyber-sex sex session late that night. I could tell you were as changed up as I was! And then talking to you on the phone. I just love your voice, so deep and strong and masculine, I could listen to that voice all day and never tire of it.
It
drives me crazy sometimes that you live on the other side of the
country. So much real estate between our hearts, But on-line or the
phone it’s like we’re standing next to each other and nothing can
keep us apart.
So when those roses arrived, I knew you truly love me and it’s just not all phone and cyber sex when you’re bored. How I wish we could be together. How I wish things were different. How I wish I didn’t have a husband and you lived out here.
But I’ll take what I can get for now, for your love makes me
Your HappyGal
Date:
Wed, 18 Feb
From:
CyberStud
Subject:
A Rose is a Rose is a…
To:
HappyGal
Last Friday night or, technically, Saturday morning) was the best time yet I had with you online. And then when you were able to sneak away on the cell phone, and husband asleep, I got so hard just listening to your beautiful voice. If an when we ever do meet “in the flesh” this is how I see us:
We go to a motel room. It’s a cheap motel and it has a certain flair and tawdriness to it. We get undresses and stand naked in front of each other. I take you in my arms and kiss you. We all to the bed that has noisy springs.
When I mount you it is a pleasure worthy of enjoyment by a king. If I am just a little rough, it is because of the passions your silken body inspires! Each stroke is a journey through wild passion like climbing a dangerous mountain in a foreign land. I can feel you all around me and it is like you are the only woman in the world. I can tell that you are aroused too, as your sighs and moans of passion drive me to erotic heights of sinful lust! When I get my full length into your hot, wet love tunnel, I feel you swept off the cliff of passion, and you soar away like a sexy seagull. I do not yet join you because I need more of your sexual magic. I continue to explore the depths of your sexuality until we both explode in passion. I shall never forget this moment and our first night together, hopefully not our last. Afterward, we lay together in a perfect harmony that I must have again.
Hope that makes you as wet as it makes me hard.
Please get a plane ticket and fly out here now!
CyberStud
Date:
Wed, 18 Feb
From:
Trollop03
Subject:
Martini Bar
To:
CyberStud, HotGurl33
Look
CyberStud, you are nothing but a two timing phony baloney. My
roommate, HotGurl33, and I were comparing notes and discovered that
you are nothing but a lying, two-timing ass whole who only wants to
fuck a girl and then move on. I do not need your kind and neither
does HotGurl33. She will not bother to send you an e-mail, as low
scum such as yourself is not worth the trouble.
There
is a bus leaving town Friday at 9 p.m. --Be under it!
Trollop03(and
also HotGurl33)
Date:
Thr, 19 Feb
From:
DShaw
Subject:
My Wife
To:
CyberStud
Listen here Mr. CyberCrud you dirty rotten bastard sonofabitch! The woman you have been talking to that calls herself HappyGal is my wife! Elaine, MY WIFE. I knew something was fishy so I got her password and took a look at all the emails from you and the discussing chat transcripts. You make me sick, you creep, you clown. How can you do this with another man’s wife? This is adultery. You out to wreck my home?
I am warning you, buddy: stay away from my wife. Do not email her, do not call her. I don’t care if you live 5,000 miles away, if I find out you contacted her I will fly out there and wring your neck, then I’ll tear your head off and piss down the hole.
Keep out of our lives!
Dan
Shaw (husband of Elaine Shaw)
Date:
Thr, 19 Feb
From:
DigiSlut
Subject:
Hiya Stud!
To:
CyberStud
Attachment::
Slut, Nude
Well,
CyberStud, the good girls found out your little act. I work with the
lady who calls herself Trollop03 and she told me that you are the
type of no-good, low-life man who will lure a girl to a crummy cheap
motel, fuck her brains out with your huge cock and then immediately
go searching for another pussy. You can just forget about Trollop03
and HotGurl33. Those two will have nothing to do with your ilk and
your milk and martinis.
I
am a girl of five feet four inches with a slim figure, but a set of
tits you gotta see and taste to believe! I am thought to be
attractive and I gotta see if your cock is really that big and if you
are as horny as the girls say. I’m also 19 – hot young stuff!
They say you’re in your mid-30s. You ever have a teen girl
before?
You
will like my hot young pussy and you will also find out that I am a
little more active in bed than the good girls. I like it hard, deep
and frequently. You best stoke up on Lavitra, old man, and come
looking for anal action too – you got it, stud, I take it up the
pooper and luv it!
I
will be at the Star Bar Friday around 8:30 p.m. I will be wearing a
red dress that screams WHORESLUT. But don’t worry honey, I don’t
charge, I just get a charge. Star Bar has rooms upstairs so we don’t
need to waste time running around looking for a crappy roach motel
with cum-stained pillow sheets.
If
you are as good as the good girls say, I got a couple of girlfriends
who are real strumpets and can fuck the brains out of a phony,
two-timing ass heel like you so damn good that you will forget about
looking for any other pussies to conquer.
Star
Bar, 8:30, be there if you dare!
DigiSlut
Date:
Thr, 19 Feb
From:
CyberStud
Subject:
Friday it is!
To:
DigiSlut
You
sound like my kind of lady!
CyberStud
Date:
Thr, 19 Feb
From:
Elaine Shaw
Subject:
[none]
To:
CyberStud
I am so sorry my darling! I am at a public library and I have to make this quick. Dan won’t let me on the computer. I am so sorry he sent you that threat. You don’t know how awful it’s been here. He is so angry I am afraid he will hurt me. I don’t know what to do. I wish I could hear your voice but it’s just not safe. I have to go now. I guess we will never speak again and that hurts so much.
Your
NotSoHappyGal
Date:
Thr, 19 Feb
From:
Joanne
Subject:
Friday Night Ass Kicking
To:
Avenging Brother
Hey, little brother,
OK, so that jerk off ass whole took the bait. He will be at the Star Bar tomorrow around 8:30 p.m. as planned. Kick his ass good for me!
Your Sister
Date:
Tue, 24 Feb
From:
HappyGal
Subject:
Freedom
To:
CyberStud
My Dear Stud,
It’s safe now. We can talk. Didn’t you get my email Sunday? I left my husband. I left Dan. He started hitting me and I had him arrested. I’m in a hotel room right now that has Internet. I have seen a divorce lawyer. I will be free from this horrible marriage soon.
I tried calling you but all I get is voice mail. Is your cell off?
Please call or email or get on chat! I need you! God, I have missed you so. Where are you?
Listen: it will take a few months to process the divorce. I will get half our savings and the house. I have decided to make a bold move. I will quit my job and move out there once everything is done with. This way we cab spend next Valentine’s together like we’re meant to.
What do you think?
I am waiting breathlessly for your call…
Your
HappyHappyHappyGal
TINSEL TOWN SHAME
It was half past three p.m. in a dark bedroom inside the Sheraton Hotel, downtown Los Angeles. Outside, a storm was coming in and the air was muggy. Robert Ford and Catherine Ellison were beginning something, kissing and touching and moving toward the bed.
“Wait, stop,” Catherine said.
“What?”
“I can’t.”
“Something is wrong,” Robert said.
“I know,” Catherine said. “I know.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, “you suggested this.”
“I know, I know. I’m—sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“What more do you want me to say?”
“I thought you wanted this.”
“So did I.”
“I mean, you’re separated from your husband.”
“I guess I’m not ready.”
“An hour ago, you said you were.”
“I had two drinks in me and they wore off,” Catherine said, “the drinks, I mean, that feeling. You know? You don’t know. I’ll reimburse you for the room.”
“Forget it,” he said, “it’s on the studio’s card, a business expense. We’ll call it research. Let’s go,” he said.
She asked, “Are you mad at me?”
“Of course not.” He kissed her on the cheek.
They left the Sheraton and got into their respective cars and merged onto different L.A. freeways. There was much traffic, as always. There are too many people in L.A., Robert thought, and they’re all a product of my imagination.
He called Chuck on the car phone.
“So,” Chuck said. “Talk to me.”
“The woman is driving me nuts.”
“Nothing happened, I take it.”
“I don’t know what’s going on in her head.”
“Having regrets you hired her?”
“Not at all, she’s the best actress for the part. I’m sorry I got it in my little brain that she was good for an affair.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the best idea,” Chuck said, who was the screenwriter for the movie Robert was directing and Catherine Ellison had a minor, but integral, part in.
“Yeah, well. You got those changes done?”
“I need another day.”
“One more day. We’re already behind.”
“Are we ever ahead?” asked Chuck.
“I have another call,” Robert said.
“Later,” Chuck said.
“Hey,” Catherine’s voice said on the other line. “Okay, are you mad at me?”
“I said I wasn’t.”
“I don’t want to this ruin the movie.”
“It won’t.”
“I know how much you want to have an affair,” Catherine said, “so I have an idea. I’ll hook you up with my friend Terri.”
“Who?” he said. “Who’s Terri?”
“She’s separated and wants...something. Like you do.”
“Who?”
“I met her at this group thing, this—you know, you sit in a circle in a room in Santa Monica and you talk about common things. Things about being married.”
“Look,” Robert said, “forget it.”
“You’ll like her.”
“It’s okay.”
“Do this for me,” Catherine said.
“Your impulses are going to drive me insane, you know,” he said, “completely.”
“That’s what my husband always says.”
Robert drove to Sherman Oaks, to the eight-bedroom house on a hill, and there in the place he called home was his wife, Sharon, sitting naked on a bean bag and reading a thick novel.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hello,” he said.
“This is a damn good book,” she said, “you should check into getting the rights.”
He looked at the cover and said, “Kitchen Creek already bought it.”
“Too bad,” Sharon said.
Sharon’s twenty-year-old lover, Nathan, walked out of the bathroom, naked, went to fridge and got a bottled juice; he noticed Robert, smiled and said, “Hey.”
“Nathan.”
“Bob.”
“How are you?”
“I’m okay,” said Nathan, “you?”
“Well,” Robert said, and opened the fridge and got himself a bottled juice.
“We didn’t know you’d be home this early,” Sharon said.
“Either did I.”
“Weren’t you supposed to screw someone?” Nathan asked.
“Oh yes,” Sharon said, “that actress.”
“Nothing ever works out the way you planned,” Robert said.
“Ain’t that true,” Nathan said.
“What do you know?”
“I know a lot, Bob.”
“He knows plenty,” Sharon said.
Robert drank his juice and went upstairs to his bedroom and took a nap.
* * *
Catherine Ellison said, “May I present to you Mrs. Terri Dodd, soon to return to her maiden name, Terri Franklin.”
They were in the bar at the Sheraton, each drinking a glass of wine.
“So you’re getting a divorce,” Robert said.
“No,” Terri said, brushing a strand of red hair out of her eyes, “but I’m thinking about it.”
“Aren’t we all,” Catherine said and laughed, nervously.
Robert looked at Catherine and Catherine stopped laughing.
“Well,” Catherine said and sipped at her wine.
“So you’re in the movie biz,” Terri said.
“Are you an actress?” he said.
“No.”
“Screenwriter?”
“No.”
“Costume designer maybe?”
“She’s not in the biz,” Catherine said.
“So how do you two—?”
“Many years,” said Terri. “Since we were in high school.”
“Really?” he said.
“Really,” Terri said.
“Well, here we are,” Catherine said; in time she left and Robert and Terri went up to the room he’d gotten on the studio’s card.
As they undressed, Terri said, “You still live with your wife?”
He said, “Yes.”
She said, “I still live with my husband. Do you understand why I’m doing this?”
“I don’t need to.”
“I want to tell you,” she said, “I want to have an affair because I’ve never done anything like this. I just turned thirty and I’ve been married for ten years and seven of those years have not been good. I haven’t been happy in seven years.”
“Thirty? You’re young.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“When I was fifteen,” she said, “I slept with one of my teachers, he was thirty-three. I thought he was ancient.”
“Sometimes I feel ancient,” Robert said. “When I turned thirty I slept with a fifteen-year-old actress at Disney because I thought it would make me feel young again.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
“What does your wife do?”
“She sleeps with boys.”
They had sex and while they had sex Terri said, “I wanted to have an affair so I could feel alive.”
“Do you feel alive?” he asked her.
She said she did and he said he did and when it was all over they both felt happy.
* * *
A few weeks later, Catherine called him on the cell phone and said, “I need to see you right now, right now.”
“What’s wrong?” Robert asked.
“Please,” she said.
He met her on Mulholland Drive, parked his car behind hers. Catherine got into his car, wearing a short blue dress and sandals.
“Okay,” he said, “I’m here.”
“I can’t deal with this.”
“Catherine,” he said, “what? The movie? There’s some snags, but this movie will happen.”
“Are you and Terri falling in love?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Tell me,” she said.
“Ask Terri.”
“I did.”
“And what did she say?”
“She said it wasn’t my business.”
“Maybe it isn’t.”
“Don’t give me that,” said Catherine Ellison, “don’t give me that. I hooked you two up.”
“Yes you did.”
“I’ve known her forever.”
“Yes you have.”
“So I have the right to know.”
“No you don’t.”
“Goddamn you.”
“I don’t get it, Cat.”
She pulled her dress up; she wasn’t wearing underwear and she said, “Do you like what you see?”
“You shave,” he said, looking.
“Do you want it?”
“That’s a funny question.”
They kissed and touched each other.
She said, “I don’t want to go to that stupid hotel.”
“Where? Here? In the car? Like teenagers?”
“My place.”
“I thought you never wanted me to—”
“A woman can change her mind,” she said.
They drove both cars down the hill to North Hollywood. Her apartment was very small and he was surprised. She had a waterbed. They undressed and got on the waterbed and kissed and touched and then Catherine said, “Wait, stop.”
“What?”
“I can’t.”
“Holy cow,” Robert said, and he stood up and started to get dressed. “I can’t deal with this again, Cat,” he said, “I can’t do this anymore.”
“You don’t understand,” she said.
“No,” he said, “I don’t, and to be quite frank, my dear, I don’t want to.”
“I want to sleep with you,” she said, “I have ever since we met, but—every time—what I mean—look—”
“What?”
“Someone tried to rape me.”
“What? When?”
“Recently.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“Who?”
“Chuck.”
“Chuck?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I said yes.”
“When?”
“I said two months ago.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Oh, Robert. I’m in love with you. Don’t fall in love with Terri. That was supposed to be a diversion.”
“Chuck raped you?”
“Well,” Catherine said, “he tried.”
“He ‘tried’?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“It means he tried, and then I ran away.”
“You ran?”
“I ran fast.”
“But he recommended you,” Robert said.
“Yeah,” she said, “he did.”
Robert was dressed now and he was determined to get to the bottom of this so he drove to Chuck’s apartment, which wasn’t too far away in Silverlake.
It was almost midnight and Chuck was busy at his laptop working on an episode for a sit-com starring Robert Downey, Jr. as well as a poem for literary purposes and a chapter on a “serious” novel he’d been laboring on for six years and drinking vodka with Diet Pepsi Vanilla; needless to say, he was surprised to see the director of his current film script at the door—looking haggard, disoriented and confused.
“Bob,” Chuck said.
Robert socked him in the nose. Chuck stumbled back, touching his nose, which was bleeding.
“What the fuck,” said Chuck.
“You raped Cat.”
“I did not.”
“She said—”
“Reality,” said Chuck, “eludes that wonderfully beautiful woman.”
* * *
The two men—two old friends—sat down with a couple of beers and talked. Chuck held a towel stuffed with ice to his nose.
“When I first met Catherine Ellison,” Chuck said, “not only did I know she was perfect for the part you cast her in, I knew I had to have her. That’s what I told myself anyway. ‘I have to have her.’ So I asked her out.”
“Wait,” said Robert, “where did you meet—”
“Where else,” said Chuck, “she was in one of my plays.”
“A play?”
“I also write plays.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“She was in my little play at that one-act festival—the Venice Beach Fringe Festival.”
“I missed that.”
“Yeah, tell me about.”
“So you met her—”
“I met her there and I asked her out and she said she was married, then later she said so what, she’s married but separated, so we go out, we go to her studio apartment, we’re getting into things, and then suddenly she starts crying and going, ‘Rape rape.’”
“What?”
“That’s what I said. She tells me she can’t do it. She tells me she met this guy at a class, a scene or acting class, it was the goddamn Mesiner Technique—”
“So what happened?”
“She went to this guy’s place, the ruse was a copy of a scene or exercise in dialogue she missed because she missed a class, and this guy tried to do the nasty.”
“He—”
“He tried to force her—”
“He raped her?”
“He tried, but she got away.”
“I’m lost,” Robert said. “She told me it was you.”
“We’ve known each other for a number of years, Bob.”
“Yeah.”
“Do I do shit like that?”
“Oh boy,” said Robert, “oh no.”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this about her? Why did you—”