So I started a new book, only like 25 pages into it so i do not know how it goes.
It starts of with Jonathan Marshall talking with Marisa, some french lady, showing her how his lab creates tsunamis to evaluate them. She's asking all sorts of questions, including..."is there a security camera in here? Could someone see if we were making love?"
ANYWAY, page 12-16 Minor material omitted.
She took a sip of red wine, then set the glass down on her bedside table. Unceremoniously, she pulled her top over her head and dropped her skirt. She was wearing nothing beneath.
Still in her high heels, she walked toward him. He must have seemed surprised, because she said, "I told you: I do not like to wait," and threw her arms around him and kissed him hard, fiercely, almost angrily. The next moments were awkward, trying to kiss while she tore off his clothes. She was breathing hard, almost panting. She never spoke. She was so passionate she seemed almost angry, and her beauty, the physical perfection of her dark body, intimidated him, but not for long.
Afterward she lay against him, her skin soft but her body taut beneath the surface. The bedroom ceiling had a soft glow from the church facade opposite. He was relaxed, but she seemed, if anything, to be energized, restless after making love. He wondered if she had really come, despite her moans and her final cries. And then, abruptly, she got up.
She took a sip of wine. "To the toilet," she said, and turned away, passing through a door. She had left her wineglass. He sat up and took a sip, seeing the delicate pattern of her lipstick on the rim.
He looked at the bed and saw the dark streaks on the sheets from her heels. She had not taken them off until midway through their lovemaking. Now the heels were tossed away, coming to a stop beneaththe window. Signs of their passion. He still felt, even now, as if he were in a dream. He had never been with a woman like this. Beautiful like this, living in a place like this...
He took another sip of wine. He could get used to this, he thought. He heard water running in the bathroom. A humming sound, a tuneless song.
With a bang the front door slammed open and three men burst into the bedroom. They were wearing dark raincoats and hats. Terrified, Marshall set the wineglass on the table -it fell- and dived for his clothes beside the bed to cover himself, but in an instant the men were on him, grabbing him with gloved hands. He yelled in alarm and panic as they threw him over, shovng him face down on the bed. He was still yelling as they pushed his face nto a pillow. He thought they were going to suffocate him, but they didn't. One man hissed, "Be quiet. Nothing will happen if you are quiet."
He didn't believe him, so he struggled, calling out again. Where was Marisa? Wat was she doing? It was happening so fast. One man wa sitting on his back, knees digging into his spine, his cold shoes on Marshall's bare buttocks. He felt the mans's hand on his neck, shoving him into the bed.
The other en had each taken one of his wrists, and they were pulling his arms wide, spread eagling him on the bed. He felt terrified and vulnerable. He moaned, and somebody hit him on the back of the head. "Quiet"
Everything was happening quickly, it was all impressionistic. Where was Marisa? Probably hiding in the bathroom, and he couldn't blame her. He heard a sloshing sound and saw a plastic baggie and something white in it, like a golf ball. They were placing the bag under his armpit, on the fleshy side of his arm. Something soft pressed against the arm, and he had a sticky sensation, like sticky chewing gum, something sticky and tugging against the flesh of his arm, and then he felt a pinch. Nothing, hardly noticeable, a momentary sting.
The men moved quickly, the baggie was removed, and at that moment he heard two surprisingly loud gundshots and Marisa was screamin in rapid french, and the third man had tumbled off Marshall's back and fallen to the ground, then scrambled up........
The door slammed, and she came back, stark naked, babbling in french he could not understand. He ws starting to tremble on the bed.
She came over and threw her arms around him. "Oh I am so sorry, so sorry. Please, you must forgive me, it is all right now". Gradually his trembling stopped, and she looked at him. "did they hurt you?" He shook his head no.
"perhaps I should be going"
"Oh no, you cannot do this to me"she said pushing her body close to him."You must stay awhile."
"Should we call the police;"
"The police will do nothing. A quarrel of lovers. In France we do not do this, call the police."
It was after midnight when he finally dressed. "why will you not stay?" she said, pouting prettily. "Don't you want to please me?"
"I'm sorry. I have to go. I don't feel very well."
"I will make you feel better."
He shook his head. In truth, he really was not feeling well. He was experiencing waves of dizziness, and his legs felt oddly weak. His hands were trembling as he gripped the balcony.
"I'm sorry, I have to leave."
"all right, then I will drive you."
Her car, he knew, was parked on the other side of the seine. It seemed far to walk. But he just nodded numbly, "All right," he said.
She was in no rush. They strolled arm in arm, like lovers, along the embankment. They passed the houseboat restaurants tied up to the side, brightly lit, still busy with guests. For a while, this slow walk, with her head on his shoulder, the soft words she spoke to him, made him feel better.
But soon he stumbled, feeling a kind of clumsy weakness coursing through his body. His mouth was very dry. His jaw felt stiff. It was difficult to speak.
She did not seem to notice. They had moved past the lights now, under one of the bridges, and he stumbled again. This time he fell on the stone embankment.
"my darling" she said, worried and solicitous, and helped him to his feet.
"i think...i think" he said
"Darling are you alright?" she helped him to a bench. "here sit here for a moment"
But he did not feel better. He tried to protest, but he could not speak. In horror he realized he could not even shake his head. Something was very wrong. His whole body ws growing weak, swiftly and astonishingly weak, and he tried to push up from the bench, but he could not move his limbs, he could not move his head. He looked at he sitting beside him.
"What is wrong? Do you need a doctor?"
Yes, I need a doctor he thought. His chest was heavy. He ws having trouble breathing. He looked away, staring straight ahead. By now he could not even move his eyes.
"Can you look at me? Can you? No?You cannot turn your head?"
Somehow, her voice did not sound concerned. She sounded detached, clinical. Perhaps his hearing was affected. tHERE WAS A RUSHING SOUND IN HIS EARS. iT WAS HARDER AND HARDER TO BREATHE..(sorry bout the caps)
"All right, let's get you away from here." Sh
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