Friday, July 24, 2009

The Streak - 42

They all sat in silence after the jeremiad. Christiane Amanpour, on the phone from Cairo, attested to the legitimacy of the group and the seriousness of the threat.

"Natasha, there's long been a sentiment among radical Islamists that celebrities, particularly figures in entertainment and sports, are the very embodiment of Western decadence and blasphemy."

Meanwhile, a graphic displayed in the box over the anchor's shoulder: a spotlight shining on a silhouette with a question mark in its head. Below it were the words Celebrities Under Attack – Who's Next?

Kyle turned to Tania. "You'll protect me," he said. She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, caressing his chest.

"My place is right near here," Thelxie told Evan. "Come over for a drink."

"Looks like we're splitting up," said Kyle. "You, come on over to my place." Tania took him by the arm.

They separated on the street, exchanging goodbyes as cheerily as they could. Evan walked with Thelxie to her building on 34th Street, a venerable Art Deco edifice in a nondescript neighborhood of warehouses and windy lots. The doorman, a dapper and cheery Hispanic man, greeted her warmly.

"Good evening, Miss Thelxie!"

"Hi Carlos!" She giggled self-consciously for having trailed in a guest.

"Hello sir," said Carlos, bowing slightly. Evan nodded back.

When they were in the elevator, Evan felt a moment of heightened reality, provoked by the sudden closeness of the walls, their forced proximity. Then she suddenly gripped him and kissed him on the mouth, and he felt a little foolish, like he'd forgotten this was the next thing they were meant to do. He reciprocated her embrace, caressing her back, her ass. Her mouth opened and she introduced her tongue, gasping, sighing. They stopped at the fifth floor with a bing.



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