Nic attempted to get his breathing under control. Allie had just given him a blowjob that paralyzed him down to his toes. He pulled her up his body by her arms and kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her lips. He wrapped his arms around her frame, holding her tightly against his chest. Placing a kiss on her forehead, he kneaded his hands into her lower back, and gazed lovingly into her eyes. A smile came across his lips."I think I owe you now, Civetta."She raised her head from his chest and folded her arms underneath her chin, "What's a Civetta?" It's my new name for you, it means minx in Italian, because you are naughty and crazy and wild, and I love it," he closed his eyes and just held tightly against his chest.She smiled up at him, "Hey sleepyhead, weren't you just saying something about owing me?" Oh yea, and I always pay back on my debts... with interest."Nic then rolled them over so he was now on top. He began by running kisses from her ear, down her throat, and past her. I've made up my mind. I have been made-up like this because in everyone's mind I am, in fact, already dead. I whimper. My bowels, as the Bible has often put it, have turned to water. An older man, sipping a Cosmopolitan, perhaps (I'm no Mr. Boston!) puffing a cigar, appraises me meditatively, almost appreciatively, but nonetheless with blank unseeing eyes, as if he were thinking of something else entirely (which, quite naturally, he is), which would mean he wasn't appraising me at all now wouldn't it? for crissakes you're not the goddamned center of the universe, you fucking egomaniac, you!), that he was merely looking, absently, because I am absent; occasionally someone (is it Cyn?) quiets my groans by thrusting a sponge between my teeth; it's soaked, I think, with a lemon-flavored tranquilizer; the older man gets bored, resurfaces from his private meditation, gets tapped on the shoulder, knocks the ash off his cigar and extinguishes it, off-handedly, against the inside of my left.
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