Or what if…what if I’ve robbed a bank, and I’m on the run, and I’m about to take you hostage? “Verbs tend to cluster together as a sex scene goes on,” she said, eyes closed, head tilted back, frame shaking with the effort of each downward thrust. “Is that…is that my name, Holder?”
“It is now. Charlotte, meanwhile, had ripped his pants off. I meant it all. “I just wish I knew what that damn noise was,” said Robert. Such a strange thing to say…”
Robert swallowed half his wine at once, feeling self-conscious. Robert experienced an unplaceable sensation of swimming, or falling, or fighting (he wasn’t sure which). And I’m sure I didn’t really feel it until just before I said it. I hate the taste of walnuts! Or what if my fiancé is alive and I just slept with you to get back at her for cheating on me first, but now I only feel worse, and I’ll find her and have a reconciliation?
