Read Liar for Free Online Page B

I’ve got some cash coming in next week. Get upstairs. I’ve forgotten what you feel like.”
    Oh well, thought China, salmon and sex was what the whole island seemed to thrive on. Best to get used to the local customs as soon as possible.

    After the initial release of Sam’s semen overflow, and a brief snooze, Sam opened his eyes and grinned lazily at China.
    “And now, my dear, I intend to play you like a...”
    “Fiddle...?” asked China.
    “Juke box.”
    “A juke box?”
    “Yes, my dear, a fiddle would require some talent.”

    Later, Sam poached some salmon in white wine, while China heated up the soup. Sam was loud in his praise of China’s Soupe a la Creme de Chanterelles, and pleased that she was learning the local customs. Recipes for life were often found in cookbooks.

    ~ ~

    Early the next morning, Sam rolled off China, totally oblivious to her morning sexual indifference, and shuffled to the shower. Unlike Sam, she didn’t struggle out of dreaming with a morning fuck on her mind. He refused to admit that it wasn’t early morning lust that made him grab her but simply tumescence that would disappear with a morning pee. He awoke so proud of the erection that made a teepee of the sheet. He called it the morning wood. Men , thought China, they’re all alike, aboriginal or not.
    She shrugged her way out of bed and groaned at the soreness between her legs. A soothing bath was desperately needed. She surveyed her forty-five year old face in the makeup mirror, with critical detachment. Not bad. Could be better. An eye lift would definitely brighten up her lovely green eyes. Her neck was showing signs of slackening and starting the slippery slide into her collarbones. However she could still pass for a voluptuously trim forty, as long as there was hair dye, eye makeup, and Jane Fonda’s exercise videos. Of all the videos she’d bounced along with, Jane’s were still the best. She was pretty, charismatic, and had a soothing voice that didn’t grate on one’s nerves. In fact she had an endearing little tremor in her voice that was very sympathetic and made you think she didn’t really have all the answers to staying beautiful forever.
    China grabbed her current book and went downstairs to make coffee. She liked to read quietly while waiting for the slow drip to stop and her mind to start whirring. Sam shuffled into the kitchen, poured his first cup and turned on the radio. China's nerves exploded.
    "When you turn on the radio you chase away my thoughts and the images forming. It's how I begin sculpting."
    "I have no thoughts this early in the morning,” said Sam.
    He turned the radio off but his stunned morning face looked so pathetic she turned it back on.
    "It's okay. I'll go upstairs."

    The morning was her best time to create. Things were clearer then, before the clatter of life and people and groceries muddied things. She sipped her coffee and waited for him to leave so she could start her day. Even in the bedroom she could feel his presence hulking at the kitchen table, a big body with no thoughts.

    China opened her journal. She sometimes felt guilty about writing down the lives of others. It was so easy to write about herself, nothing secret there. Others guarded themselves so carefully, confident that secrecy was protection. Her kind of writing was a search for the truth, her own or someone else's. She found it and then committed it to the devil’s advocate, her journal, hidden like a narcotic in her pantie drawer. It should have had a red warning label on the cover: SIDE EFFECTS CAN BE DANGEROUS TO YOUR SPOUSE.
    Sam entered the bedroom and China jumped. Her pen froze and when he peeped over her shoulder, she slammed her journal shut.
    "What are you writing?" asked Sam.
    "I don't know and I'll never find out if you look over my shoulder."
    "Why not? Maybe I can help."
    "I don't think so.”
    "I got something here that might inspire you." He thrust his erection into her face.
    Not again ,