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fear of breaking the spell. Then she said in a low voice. “You hardly know me.”
    â€œI’ve never met anyone like you. I feel as if I’ve known you forever.”
    As they held each other, images of palm leaves floated through her mind, and she wondered if she were picking up his thoughts. She breathed in the smell of his sweat, mixed with musky cologne, wine, and tobacco. His black hair felt soft, almost silken.
    Arching his upper body over her, he penetrated her slippery wetness. Sweat glued them together. As he thrust deeper, she began to feel like a swirling sea, all liquid inside, as she clamped the walls of her vagina tighter against him. He kept on thrusting. Deep inside her, he paused, and for a moment both of them lay still, while their breathing synchronized. It felt as if they were no longer two people. They were one. If only they could always be together like this, she thought. If only there were no lonely aftermath. When he began thrusting again, she felt as if he were filling her with his strength, and she ground her pelvis against him to get him even deeper inside her. “Fuck me until I die,” she whispered. What a crazy thing to say! As they moved against each other, she felt as if she were sliding into a dark chasm, sliding, falling, until she could no longer hold herself back. Then she lay still. Again tears overflowed, and her face was wet when he stroked her cheek.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    â€œI don’t know. I don’t want you to leave me.”
    â€œI’m not going to leave you, precious.”
    She pressed her hands against his buttocks, dug her face into his shoulder. She felt like an octopus dragging him down beneath the sea as he continued ramming into her.
    Then with a series of faster thrusts he climaxed.
    Calmed by his orgasm, she sighed. The way he touched her, the warmth in his voice, the way he sensed who she was, all this was something she had never experienced before, not even with Gerald. Perhaps at last she had found the man who would be her guide as well as her lover. Perhaps he would marry her, and they would have a child.
    His penis was shrinking now, and her thighs were sticky with his semen. She didn’t move because she wanted to prolong the pleasure of feeling him inside her. She imagined his sperm traveling upwards to fertilize the egg in her uterus.
    As if picking up her thoughts, he probed inside her vagina with his long fingers and felt her diaphragm. “Good,” he said. “You’re protected.”
    â€œYes,” she said sadly.
    Dread encircled her like a serpent so that she could hardly breathe. She felt herself losing control of her center, her edges spilling out, as if she were some kind of soft putty he would be able to mold into any shape he wanted, and she sensed that she would be powerless to prevent this because she would need him far too much.

C hapter 7
    At 9:15 the next morning Adrianne stumbled sleepily into the office at Eureka Fabrics. She put the paper bag with her doughnut and coffee on the desk and her straw handbag inside the bottom drawer.
    Irene rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Here’s the party girl!”
    â€œYou’re late,” added Rose.
    â€œI know,” Adrianne said brightly, skittering over an abyss of fear. “The subway got stuck.” She became aware of how wrinkled her skirt and blouse were from being thrown into a heap on Alfredo’s floor.
    Rose, five months pregnant, had pale skin and long curly hair. She took a sip of the Pepsi which always stood on her littered desk. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriends to send you to work in a taxi?” she asked, exchanging a glance with Irene.
    Adrianne laughed, but she felt panicky. Something was wrong. They treated her as if she were crazy.
    The only phone in the office rang.
    Irene picked it up. “For you, Adrianne,” she said, handing her the receiver. Then she resumed flicking through