Her head was thrown back, stuck between a couple pillows and jammed against the oak headboard—some cheap, ugly French Provincial thing they probably...got at Sheely’s after a long layaway. Her throat glistened. She kept saying “Oh my God... Oh my God.” The room—at my particular coordinates, anyway—smelled like cunt and dirty ashtray and a chemicaled pine from an old cone-shaped air freshener on her bedside table that had hardened into a shriveled plug.I lapped at her pussy much like I did the. Fenton sat back, and knocked back his drink, paying Harker’s remarks no mind. Roswell Harker did not like Carl Fenton. Oh, he felt sorry for Carl’s lost, he had honestly meant what he had said. But he did not — he could not feel anything for Carl other than complete, loathing and disgust. He felt that Carl embodied everything corrupt, crooked, and amoral, which, he guessed, makes it almost fitting that Carl was a lawyer. Harker quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind. No, he thought,. More

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