Shelton thoughtfully hung the negatives up to dry and went back into his office where he sat, feet propped up on the desk, staring out the window and seeing nothing. For a moment yesterday afternoon, he had entered paradise. A beautiful, seemingly untouchable woman. The world of softness. An expensive velvet comforter hiding satin sheets atop a king-sized bed… not a threadbare and grease-spotted corduroy cover hiding the sagging springs of his own pathetic pull-down Murphy bed. Once again he felt her body thrashing beneath him, screaming out obscenities that were never truly “obscene” coming from the throat of a woman in a fit passion. Once again he tasted the rare elixir of her vagina. Once again he felt his tongue trembling at the threshold of her anus. He groaned deep in his throat and was abruptly angry at the realization he was actually feeling sorry for himself “You stupid son of a bitch,” he snarled aloud, castigating himself “So you got to fuck a rich man’s wife. Does that spoil screwing poor women for you? Isn’t one cunt just as good as another?” Even as he said the words, he already knew the answer to the questions: Yes, she had spoiled everything. Her money had nothing to do with it; she could be in debt up to that wonderful ass of hers, and it wouldn’t make any difference. He’d had her; and as obviously inexperienced as she was, no other broad could ever be the same again for him. Angrily, he fished for a cigarette and then cursed as he found the package was empty. He threw the pack at a waste basket and shook his head mournfully as it hit the rim and bounced When the phone jangled at

that moment, he almost ripped the cord from the receiver when he yanked it up and growled, “Yeh?”

Her voice came over the line. “Mister Shelton?”

He took a deep breath and tried to sound civilized. “Yes, Mrs. Akron.”

She didn’t waste any time in getting to the point. “How did the photographs turn out?” He could sense her embarrassment over the phone.