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It was the middle of the night, and I was an avid believer in that the faster things got done, the faster everything would return back to normal. Of course, in the Normal Bureau, normal had many meanings none of which had any similarity to the definition of the word. Nevertheless, I found it strange that I could've probably walked away right then and there, but I didn't.I could have walked away, and Falconi couldn't - as Jules would have put it - 'pop caps in my ass'. I could have walked away and all these people with their silly hats, all they could have done was go all wild-eyed and insist that I thought about it once more, and then perhaps cry alone or en masse for the coming Revelation, Armageddon, Rapture, or whatever they wanted to call the huge bitch-slapping that was about to hit home.But then, I thought, where would that leave me? How could I have lived with my immortal self for aeons afterward, in a barren, molten, putrefied sulfur-ridden landscape, with not another human. He demanded I say the words he liked to hear, so as his hard cock pumped into me, I did.A few weeks later we were invited to a party at one of my husband's client's house. I was told to have my hair done and when he came home he would organise my party outfit. For an hour he made me try on six or seven different dresses and blouse and skirt combinations until he decided on a low cut, short cocktail dress in dark blue. To go with this I wore a pair of bikini knickers and high heel court shoes. It was very large house with a swimming pool in the garden. There were about a hundred people there of whom I knew no one. I was introduced to our host who kissed me lightly and invited us to stay for a weekend sometime soon for a pool party. My husband was very pleased with me for the impression I had given to his very important customer. He told me over a large drink that our host contributed to about half of our income from commissions alone, so I must always be nice to him. I found out later.
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