They all seemed aroused when the songs ended and she looked like she enjoyed arousing them. The line of men seemed to grow as the night went on.As the...night went on two black guys that came to the bar, quite often came in and watched her dance. They came over to the table, introduced themselves and we all had a good time talking and getting to know one another.One of them asked her to dance and she looked at me and I nodded okay. They went to the dance floor and she put her arms over his. “Paula, is Paul your, um ... your boyfriend?”Paula was getting used to this question.“Not really. Maybe when we get bigger or something. I mean, I ain’t ever kissed him or anything.”“Would you kiss him? I mean, if he wanted you to?”Paula had thought about this herself, the last time somebody had asked if the little boy was her boyfriend. She had to be careful how she answered, because she didn’t want Paul to think she was after him that way, but she didn’t want him to think there was no chance.. Formality or not, it wasn't a good idea to miss a job interview.The burning in my chest, instead of going away, deepened steadily until it felt like someone had lit a blow-torch in there. I put my hand up to rub what seemed to be the center of the discomfort and felt dampness beneath my fingers. Confused, wondering what I might have spilled on myself, I brought the hand up and looked at it. My fingers were covered with blood.Adrenaline flooded me once again. Afraid of what I'd see, I looked. He was an athletic forty-year-old, not too old but not very young, with a rugged face and an easy smile. He had a knack for lightening up dry analysis of pottery styles and agricultural tools with outrageous personal stories from his time doing fieldwork in Mozambique and Sri Lanka. Christi found herself wishing Hansen were an English professor so she could take seven courses from him and went well out of her way to class to verify exactly where his office was. The opposite was true, sadly, of.
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