Chapter 6: Slow

Nobody said anything in the car.

Florian drove with both hands on the wheel.

At a red light he reached over and put a pack of tissues on my knee.

That night I did not pretend to read.

I washed my face, put on Nils's t-shirt and lay down on the sofa at ten, with the lamp still on.

Nils glanced at me from the kitchen door, and then at Florian.

Florian turned off the lamp himself.

I lay in the dark and listened to them not saying anything.

It was worse than words, and better.

The floor creaked. Someone knelt by my head.

"She cried," Nils said under his breath. "I heard the car door."

"I know."

"She went in there alone and she walked out with her back straight. Flo, I've never seen anyone do that."

"I have," Florian said. "Just now."

His fingers moved a strand of hair off my cheek, so gently that I almost opened my eyes.

The t-shirt slid up over my stomach, over my ribs. Someone eased it over my breasts and left it there.

Cool air touched me, and then a hand, and then a mouth, soft and slow on one nipple.

I kept my lips parted and my face turned to the cushion.

"She likes it," Nils whispered.

"She doesn't know."

"Her body knows, Flo."

"I'm saying her body knows more than she does."

Underwear slid down my legs, and I lifted my hips a fraction to help them, as a sleeper might who is shifting.

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