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Show Woodworth/135 Wants to go home on her own. But there is no choice now. She set him up for this* has to take what she gets. She takes a last swallowi trying to finish the beer with one gulp, and nearly chokes. A thin stream escapes from both sides of her mouth and dribbles down her chin onto her blouse. Hopes he didn't notice, wipes it away with the back of her hand. His hand on her upper arm, steering her away from the bar, through the crowds, pulling or pushing on the flesh of her arm, right and left, right and left, towards him and away. He follows her up the stairs to her apartment, and even as she looks for her key, she is aware of his eyes on her ass. Grateful when they get to the top of the stairs, but then he reaches, grabs a handful of her ass, and rubs while she tries to get the key in the lock. Through the door, she escapes from his touch, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Classy place," he says as he wanders from one room to another. She follows him, protecting. Doesn't want him to touch anything. "Really, this is a nice place." He looks out the front window, across Charles Street, and then turns, looks back at her. "You still need more furniture though, don't you?" She nods. "Some stuff. I was going to get a few chairs to go in here. And a couch or something." "And some stuff for the walls?" "Yeah." "Do you have a car?" "Huh-un." The apartment doesn't seem like her own, now with him in it. Too bare. Too unfamiliar. "I'll tell you want," he says. "I'll take you around to look for more furniture. We can go up to New Hampshire. ^ v^ w^n+ *„* i0ok around at the auctions. And I know |