Unformatted text preview: ly. It wasn't even erotic. It was all a kind of swoony romance. She wanted to feel his arms around her; she wanted him to pick her up; she wanted him to kiss her; common things like that. A man's arms, not a boy's. They should dance. In fact, it was plain wonderful that there was no boy in him, that he was all wild beast in a way some men never would be, very jagged and roughened and overgrown, with skin-colored lips and slightly wild eyebrows. She realized he was looking at her, and in the even light from the street, his face was pale yet clear. "Mona!" he whispered. "Yes, Uncle Michael. I got forgotten. It was a mix-up. Can I spend the night?" "Well, honey, we have to call your father and mother." He started to sit up, deliciously rumpled, black hair tumbling over his eyes. He really was drugged, though, no doubt of it. "Wrong, Uncle Michael!" she said quickly but gently. She put her hand on his chest. Ah, terrific. "My dad and mom are asle...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10