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Morgan was a real writer Just a poet, sure, but a published writer Not like the pussy posers in her fiction-writing classes Morgan knew publishers, editors He could help her launch a real career, guide her past pitfalls, introduce her into the right literary circles

She parked in front of his house, ran through the downpour to his front porch Her knock was almost lost aan&039;s tin roof He opened the door, ushered her in, and shut it again quickly against the wind

"I didn&039;t expect you," Morgan said

"Is it okay?" She shivered, stood dripping in his living rooed out of her coat, the thin fabric of her blouse clinging to hard, thian found towels, brought them to her She dried her hair

"Your clothes"

"I need to take them off," she said

"Okay"

She peeled off the blouse in front of him, slithered out of the wet jeans

Morgan put his arms around her, and she stood on tiptoe, forced her open ry and they tripped and tu pile She pulled off his pants, took hi on top

She rode hi her pale skin blue His hands sank into her round softness She arm and deep and she covered him with herself, back arched, mouth open

Thunder crashed Rain fell The storan didn&039;t knohat to think of her

"I came back to tell you it will be okay," she said

She sprawled across the bed, trying, Morgan supposed, to spread herself over every possible square inch A leg and an arm draped over him too

"What do you ht you irl-"

"I wasn&039;t worried" Yes he had been So hard questions And what about Ginny? Strange, soft, bouncy, eager Ginny Was this some kind of kick for her, bury a body and bed a professor? Yeah, he kneomen like that You could find the, hot novelist Flavor of the h his chest hair

His skin got hot and sweaty where her heavy arainst him He tried to squirm out fro" He sank back into the pillow

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No"

"Yes you do" She curled into a ball, sighed, rolled off the bed, and went into the living room

"Your clothes are still wet," he called after her

She plucked theed into her bra "I&039;d better get going"

Morgan watched her dress through the bedroom door and was certain he was supposed to stop her She was expecting so callback where he asked where she was off to He&039;d pull her back into bed, drag her beneath the silky, intimate prison of the sheets It&039;s what she expected

But he could not quite suy Appropriate words refused to form He watched her button the blouse, zip jeans, slip her bare feet into squeaky leather hiking boots And even when he heard his front door open and close, he couldn&039;t quite le thing that didn&039;t sound trite and placating

He heard her engine start over the patter of rain, heard the car fade down the lane

Thank God

He&039;d been unable to resist her fleshy i had always been his problele of li the same sort of behavior which had landed him in this shit-pie of a situation in the first place He did not know Ginny Conrad very well Sure, he knew her taste and her feel and the breathless, urgent whine that squeezed out of her just before orgasm But he didn&039;t knohat she&039;d do What was her te ossip away any hope he ever had of steady e his feet over the bed, stood with a low groan A twinge in his lower back Ginny had ridden hietting too old for this And too fat He rerabbed his pants off the floor, and so tumbled out of the pocket, landed hard and sharp on the top of his bare foot Cold and ritted his teeth, rubbed the foot "Son of a bitch" He looked at his foot, red and swelling fast He had the kind of skin that bruised easily purple and ugly green

He scanned the floor to see what had bashed hi him to pick it up

He didn&039;t want to bend over the way his back felt, so he nudged it with a toe, metal heavy and cold Shoved it slowly under the bed Itnoise on the wood, like a utter Good, leave it there Morgan could climb under the bed for it some other ti, back co His head hurt too Stress

He stepped into his slippers and grabbed a green flannel shirt off the doorknob on his way to the kitchen He found a bottle of aspirin Empty

"Godda the aspirin bottle back es and pie pans It irlfriends crazy, probably why he hadn&039;t lived with anyone in five years

The phone rang

Morgan glared at it, willed it to shut up It rang again

He picked it up "Hello?"

"It&039;s Jones" The old man&039;s voice rattled on the other end like a bad stereo speaker

Hell and daun back Or maybe there&039;d been trouble with Annie, the body discovered, police on their way to slap hian went chill and damp under the armpits, felt dread swell in his belly Oh, God, that&039;s it, isn&039;t it? It was all blowing up in his face

"You look at them poems yet?" Jones asked

"Uh" What?

"I don&039;t have forood You toldto read them"

"Yes But I&039;ve only just started" Lies "I need o over the, Iabout the poems?"

"I helped you with your little problem," Jones said "Should be fine Now, I think maybe I should come over there"

"Why?"

"We can talk about the poe mean no?"

"I have to" Think, Jay "I have a function on ca out the door"

"Oh, bullshit I&039;ht now"

"Uh"

"I&039;ll see you in a few rabbed keys, jerked his coat off the back of a chair

Outside, the rain still fell but only gently Halfway to his car Morgan noticed he was still wearing slippers, water soaking through cold He thought about going back for shoes Screw it

He jumped in his car, cranked it