He had posted naked at the window, tail triumphant.
She was not moving. Assisi. Eyes in a vacuum. The hand that cache. The hand that prevents semen stain sheets.
Rushing. Room bath, sink and keep it, clean it, leaving no evidence.
She asks her, icy, if he liked the stuff easily, he says, he is the "easy", he would have to stop being like that .
He leaves. She still does not move.
Basically she knows what happened. She knows she did not want. Not like this, not in that way.
He said that fairy tales do not exist. Not in this lifetime.
It was hot, it does not wet.
She remembered last night, she remembered another.
He had penetrated, without shame, without hood, mechanically, instinctively.
Had clearance of an "I'm sorry, I too want" and raped her.
- Her mouth moaned "no", it does knew more. It was different.
An animal in heat came to empty the balls claiming a courtesy. Pending the next scheduled appointment.
The sham.
She had resigned. Positioned itself as a spectator of herself, an accomplice of this disgusting act.
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