ntempt； as was the jiber。
〃If I were you； Marty；〃 Whitehead said from the other end of the table； 〃I'd break his neck。〃 Marty shrugged。 〃Why bother？〃 he said。
〃Seems to me； you're not so dangerous after all；〃 Ottaway went on。
〃Who said I was dangerous？〃 The smirk the lawyer wore deepened。 〃I mean。 We were expecting an animal act； you know？〃 Ottaway moved a bottle to get a better look at Marty。 〃We were promised…〃 The conversation around the table had ground to a halt； but Ottaway didn't seem to notice。 〃Still； nothing's quite as advertised； is it？〃 he said。 〃I mean； you ask any one of these godforsaken gentlemen。〃 The table was a still…life； Ottaway's arm swept around to include everyone in his tirade。 〃We know； don't we？ We know how disappointing life can be。〃 〃Shut up；〃 Curtsinger snapped。 He stared woozily at Ottaway。 〃We don't want to hear。〃 〃We may not get another chance； my dear James；〃 Ottaway replied； his courtesy contemptuous。 〃Don't you think we should all admit the truth？ We are in extremis！ Oh yes； my friends。 We should all get down on our knees and confess！〃 〃Yes； yes；〃 said Stephanie。 She was trying to stand but her legs were of another mind。 Her dress； the back unzipped； threatened to slip。 〃Let's all confess；〃 she said。
Dwoskin pulled her back into her chair。
〃We'll be here all night；〃 he said。 Emily giggled。 Ottaway； undeterred； was still talking。
〃Seems to me；〃 he said； 〃he's probably the only innocent one amongst us。〃 Ottaway pointed at Marty。 〃I mean； look at him。 He doesn't even know what I'm talking about。〃 The remarks were beginning to irritate Marty。 But there'd be precious little satisfaction in threatening the lawyer。 In his present state Ottaway would crumble under one blow。 His bleary eyes didn't look far from unconsciousness。 〃You disappoint me；〃 Ottaway murmured； with genuine regret in his voice； 〃I thought we'd end better than this 。 。 。〃 Dwoskin stood up。 〃I've got a toast；〃 he announced。 〃I want to toast the women。〃 〃Now there's an idea；〃 Curtsinger said。 〃But we'll need a fire。〃 Oriana thought this the funniest remark she'd heard all night。
〃The women！〃 Dwoskin declared； raising his glass。 But nobody was listening。 Emily； who had been lamblike so far； had suddenly taken it into her head to strip off。 She'd pushed her chair back and was now unbuttoning her blouse。 She wore nothing beneath； her nipples looked rouged； as if in preparation for this unveiling。 Curtsinger applauded； Ottaway and Whitehead joined in with a chorus of encouraging remarks。
〃What do you think？〃 Curtsinger asked Marty。 〃Your type； is she？ And they're all her own； aren't they； sweetheart？〃 〃You want to feel？〃 Emily offered。 She'd discarded her blouse； she was now naked from the waist up。 〃e on；〃 she said； taking hold of Marty's hand and pressing it against her breast； working it around and around。
〃Oh； yes；〃 said Curtsinger； leering at Marty。 〃He likes that。 I can tell he likes that。〃 〃Of course he does；〃 Marty heard Whitehead say。 His gaze； not too focused； slid in the old man's direction。 Whitehead met it head…on： the hooded eyes were devoid of humor or arousal。 〃Go on；〃 he said。 〃She's all yours。 That's what she's here for。〃 Marty heard the words but couldn't make proper sense of them。 He pulled his hand off the girl's flesh as if scalded。
〃Go to Hell；〃 he said。
Curtsinger had stood up。 〃Now don't be a spoilsport；〃 he rebuked Marty； 〃we only want to see what you're made of。〃 Down the table； Oriana had started to laugh again； Marty wasn't sure at what。 Dwoskin was banging his hand； palm down； on the table。 The bottles jumped in rhythm。
〃Go on；〃 Whitehead told Marty。 They were all looking at him。 He turned to face Emily。 She was standing a yard away from him； attempting the catch of her skirt。 There was something undeniably erotic about her exhibitionism。 Marty's trousers felt tight： his head too。 Curtsinger had his hands on Marty's shoulders and was trying to slip off his jacket。 The tattoo Dwoskin was beating on the table； which Ottaway had now taken up； made Marty's head dance。
Emily had succeeded with the catch； and her skirt was at her feet。 Now； without prompting； she pulled off her panties and stood in front of the assembled pany wearing only pearls and high…heeled shoes。 Naked； she looked young enough to be jailbait： fourteen； fifteen； at most。 Her skin was creamy。 Somebody's hand…Oriana's； he thought； was massaging Marty's erection。 He half…turned： it wasn't her at all； but Curtsinger。 He pushed the hand away。 Emily had stepped toward him and was unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom up。 He tried to stand to say something to Whitehead。 The words weren't there yet； but he badly wanted to find them： wanted to tell the old man what a cheat he was。 More than a cheat： he was scum； dirty…minded scum。 This was why he'd been invited up here； plied with wine and dirty talk。 The old man had wanted to see him naked and rutting。
Marty pushed Curtsinger's hand away a second time： the touch was horribly expert。 He looked along the table to Whitehead； who was pouring himself another glass of wine。 Dwoskin's gaze was fixed on Emily's nakedness； Ottaway's on Marty。 Both had given up slapping the table。 The lawyer's stare said everything： he was sickly pale； sweaty anticipation on his face。
〃Go on；〃 he said； his breath ragged； 〃go on； take her。 Give us a show to remember。 Or haven't you got anything worth displaying？〃 Marty heard the sense too late to reply； the naked child was pressing herself against him； and somebody （Curtsinger） was trying to unbutton the top of his trousers。 He made one last； ungainly lunge at equilibrium。
〃Stop this；〃 he murmured； looking at the old man。
〃What's the problem？〃 Whitehead asked lightly。。
〃Joke over；〃 Marty said。 There was a hand in his trousers； reaching for his erection。 〃Get the fuck off me！〃 He shoved Curtsinger back with more force than he'd planned。 The big man stumbled and fell against the wall。 〃What's wrong with you people？〃 Emily took a step back from him to avoid Marty's flailing arm。 The wine was boiling up in his belly and throat。 His trousers jutted。 He looked； he knew； absurd。 Oriana was still laughing： riot just her； Dwoskin too； and Stephanie。 Ottaway just stared。
〃You never seen a fucking hard…on before？〃 he spat at them all。
〃Where's your sense of humor？〃 Ottaway said。 〃We just want a floor show。 Where's the harm？〃 Marty jabbed a finger in Whitehead's direction。 〃I trusted you；〃 he said。 It was all he could find to shape his hurt。
〃That was an error then； wasn't it？〃 Dwoskin mented。 He spoke as if to an imbecile。
〃You fucking shut up！〃 Fighting back the urge to break somebody's face…anybody's would do…Marty pulled on his jacket； and with one backsweep of his hand cleared a dozen bottles； most of them full； off the table。 Emily screamed as they shattered around her feet； but Marty didn't wait to see how much damage he'd done。 He backed off from the table and stumbled toward the door。 The key was in the lock； he opened it and stepped into the hallway。 Behind him Emily had begun to bawl like a baby just woken from a nightmare； he could hear her all the way down the darkened corridor。 He hoped to God his jittering limbs would bear him up。 He wanted out： into the air； into the night。 He lurched down the back staircase； hand outstretched against the wall for support； the steps receding beneath his feet。 He reached the kitchen having fallen only once； and opened the back door。 The night was waiting。 Nothing to see him； nothing to know him。 He breathed in cold black air； and it burned in his nostrils and lungs。 He staggered across the lawn； almost blind； not knowing which direction he was going in； until he thought of the woods。 Taking a moment to reorientate himself； he ran toward them； begging their discretion。
46
He ran； the undergrowth dragging at his legs； until he was so deep in the stand of trees he could see neither the house nor its lights。 Only then did he stop； his whole body thumping like one vast heart。 His head felt loose on his neck； bile gurgled at the back of his throat。
〃Jesus。 Jesus。 Jesus。〃 For a moment； his gyrating head lost control： his ears