Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. The threadbare remainders of the dinner discussion hovered over the topics of obsessive fans of the science fiction and horror genres. It was a pity people had to eat food. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. She turned her eyes to him again, and saw her late friend and pleasant and trusted companion, who had seen fit suddenly to change into a lover, babbling interesting inacceptable things. He seemed to deliberate. There’s something— something ADULT about you. “Sure, but it’s not like you’re married, you know. ’ Gerald laughed.
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