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Monday, August 22, 2005

Fiction, inspired by Arturo Perez-Reverte

One and a half times.

One and a half times he had succeeded while she had tried to ignore the tequila on his breath and the sticky smell of his sweat.

One and a half times before John, overeager for his turn, had pulled his friend away and turned to her himself. The gap had been enough for her to find, with one hidden hand, the small bedside lamp. It was too delicate to be useful, but she unplugged it and held the three-pronged cord in one fist. As John approached her she brought the plug home.

She had been hoping (not knowing much about electricity) that this would electrocute him. But she was satisfied with the amount of pain it had caused instead, and shakily she stood, half-trying to rearrange her clothing.

She had not planned far enough ahead. Now she faced Carlos, circling her as she stood over his screaming friend, and she had no weapons left save her clenched fists.


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