Will you please—Not now, or I must go. Annabel, I was lying. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. Delight surged through her as her breasts, shoulders, and belly touched his naked flesh all at once. Let me engage myself. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. She liked to do it for Cathy Beck, so that she could relax after waitressing all day at the Big Apple with a homemade meal. And still you interest yourself in my affairs. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur. ’ With satisfaction, Gerald noted that her voice was hopelessly unsteady and drove home his advantage.
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