And while this is happening, I’m on the brink of sinking myself into the spade’s oily warmth, my tip tickling on the black curls of her pubic hair. Her legs are doubled up and her knees slide upward rubbing against my shoulders as I prepare for re-entry. Then the phone rings. I close my eyes with a different intensity and say the word instead of acting it out. I pull back and get off the bed, walk over to the bedroom door and lift my shoulder holster off the hook. Then I open the door and go through into the hall and pick up the pay phone receiver. It is Murdock. “This is Murdock,” he says. I nod although there is no one to see. “Draper’s on your ass,” Murdock says. “And that is the end of the news?” I say. “It’s worse than usual. He’s onto the car three times since you went up there.
