seven sentence sunday #4: a visit to perry

So, yes, increasingly, not on Sunday and not seven sentences.

Oh, well.

If I ever finish this book (the infamous “third novel”), and if at some future date somebody does an overall study of my oeuvre — I would be hard pressed to say which of these is less likely — this book would definitely be classified as “the one with all the sex.”

This chapter, “A Visit to Perry,” is where the real plot begins. There are a few sex scenes in this chapter, but I decided to feature this one because it’s amusing, it doesn’t reveal any major plot points, and it features a character I haven’t written about in a while.

It’s SFW, unless you have a really prudish employer.

 
The small house had become a little claustrophobic, and Marshall had decided to go for a walk. The evening air was cool, and the little gravel road was quiet.

“It’s good that you came here,” said a quiet voice.

He looked around, knowing that he wouldn’t see anything. “Hi,” he said. “I was really thinking that this was a big waste of time.”

Randi laughed. “I know. But it’s good, for a variety of reasons. So, don’t be in any hurry to get back. Perry and SarahBeth have to work through some things, and so do SarahBeth and Vicki. That’s a very complex relationship, as you can probably tell.”

“I think any relationship with SarahBeth in it would be complicated.”

Randi chuckled. “You are very right. She is a piece of work, isn’t she? I’m glad she’s not one of mine.”

There was a turn in the path, and they came upon a small gazebo. It was beautiful in the moonlight. Marshall noticed a long couch with many cushions, and a small table with bottles and glasses.

Randi, slowly becoming visible, took his hand and led him to the couch.

“This is starting to look like a compromising position for a married man,” he said with a small laugh.

She pulled him down beside her on the couch. Her smile was impish, her hair was long and dark and full, and her nightgown was sheer.

He looked around. “This is a dream, right? Isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” she said, gently pushing him down so he was lying on the couch. “Dreams don’t count as infidelity, or nobody could ever be considered faithful.” (She whispered, “close your eyes,” as she continued speaking in her normal voice.)

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