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You take off your own shoes, lean back on the bed, and adopt the expression and body language of a sensitive listener.
You say:
"If you'd like to tell me, of course I would.."
"Maybe some other time", says Caroline.
You can see no hairbrush here, and you don't remember the words to The Bangles' 'In Your Room'. You settle for maintaining eye contact as much as possible.
You try to think about Pete Doherty but he does not maintain your attention. You stammer: "Where do you get your hair done, and why does it look so nice?"
"My friend Shane cuts it - she's great!", says Caroline. "But let's not talk about haircuts."
You ask her what else she might have in mind.
"You seem smart enough", she replies, grabbing the lapels of your shirt, ripping it open, and then effortlessly pinning you to the bed by holding your wrists above your head with one hand, while the other unzips your trousers. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."
You decide that you will ask her if she or Michael have a mobile phone charger that will fit your phone some other time.
At this point, teh Computer would like to divert the casual viewers' attention elsewhere, as we pan up across the wall to the Frank Sinatra poster with the sounds of half-hearted struggling, groans, mewls, and such and such in the background. A less polite Computer might quote apposite lyrics from the chorus of the song 'Frank Sinatra', or perhaps something by another of those filthy electro types, like Peaches or Avenue D. Suffice to say, the night continues in memorable fashion, as you are subjected to and subject Caroline to (in a ratio according to personal taste) a wide range of perversions, not all of them familiar, but none of them unpleasant.
And then, finally, sore but satisfied, you sleep.
You are asleep. |
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