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Show Woodworth/139 open door, his hands on the doorknobs. His head is back, and he is watching the top of the door, half humming and half singing to himself. Marty watches him. Treating walls, doors, furniture like that, anywhere in the house, is a serious offense. But in Mary Gallagher's room, it seems like sacrelige. "I told Mommie, you know." Jake stops swinging, leans all the way back and looks over at Marty. "I told Mommie that I didn't like Mary Gallagher. I said that she slapped me. They're going to make Mary Gallagher go away." Another wave, like a back-lash, sweeps through her, and she clotches Gary, trying to bring his weight down to stop it. "Phew," he says. And then laughs. "You ready for more already?" She can't answer him, concentrates on not crying. He rolls away, and she can feel the air grab her. The sweat that had been trapped between their bodies turns sticky, prickles across her stomach and chest. "I knew you were a sexy lady. But I didn't know quite what I was getting myself into." She can feel him turn his head to look at her, but she keeps an arm across her face, her eyes closed tight. Finally she says, "That's what a mistress is for, isn't it?" The venom feels good. He can't even keep up with her. The wave receeds, leaving her empty again. "Do you have a clock in here?" he asks. "There should be one right there," she answers, and looks over the side of the bed. "Here," she reaches across him, feeling his chest against her breasts, gropes under the bed for her alarm clock. "It's ten past nine." "Ummm. Shit," he says, lurching out from under her. I should |
