"Give her a chance to talk." A few peoplein the crowd shouted their agreement.Styron held up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right.What...s this wonderful idea of yours, _Miss_ O'Hanlan?" I read that letter in the paper," Trisha began, "the one signed Pru--" The one signed... that letter had your fingerprints all over it,O'Hanlan." Styron snorted. "Prudence Aforethought -- hah! If you hadeither of those virtues, it'd be _Patrick_ talking now." You lousy..." Trisha tried to slap. Slipping her panties down over her hips, I scanned down stanza by stanza, over her stomach, her bellybutton and through the dark, curly hair. My tongue then slipped between her pages and I tasted her, the warm, damp folds of verse, the tart taste of metaphor and the earthy wet of allusion. Her hips rhymed as she grabbed my head and pulled me into her book, exposing her most delicate self to me. After she came, she pulled my head up, kissed me on my lips, tasting herself on my lips, and then she. More

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