Presently he became filled with astonishment over the singular fact that Ruth was eluding him in fancy as well as in reality. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. When she was done she checked the patio door and carried his body into the garage, burying his remains next to the ten year old girl he had raped and killed last autumn, whose bones were starting to show in small areas where the maggots had feasted. He initiated sex with her, lightly fingering her clitoris as an invitation. “What if you get pregnant?” His worry came to a quick fruition. ‘Oh! little Vee!’ he cried, ‘little Vee!’ and put his face between his hands and sat still for a long time before he broke out again. They sat in the front row. “How have you been, my dear? Up to no good, I see.
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