I mimicked her actions and buried my head back into my phone, attempting to not stare at her blatant sultriness. I managed a paragraph or so and glanc...d towards her. She was reading, not looking at me. Her one leg was idly swaying back and forth as she read, seemingly unaware that I could practically see up her miniskirt. One elbow was resting on the table, holding her book, and the other hand was twining a lock of her hair around her finger and then unwinding it.I forced my eyes down and noted. The tube in my throat was still in place, now fed by a machine that pulsed and pushed air into my lungs. A clear tube fed an IV drip in my left arm.My right arm was in a sling. Everything ached. Huge blue-black bruises spread across my torso like thunderclouds. My throat was unbearably scratchy. There was a persistent ringing in my right ear. But I was alive.I looked to the right. On a chair in the corner of the room, a red-haired nurse was reading a gossip magazine.She caught the fractional. " It was the truth, and she knew it.Dick kissed the top of her head, then pointed to a small beach at the foot of one of the hills; it was hidden from the castle and from other viewpoints. "What say we picnic -- go swimming here tomorrow?"The beach did look terribly inviting. "Oh, honey. Can we?" I don't see why not. They told us the lake belonged to the castle grounds." He leered at her, and one eyebrow shot up suggestively, "We could even... ah... dispense with bathing suits. How about. .”“People are talking, your holiness. People will follow him...”“But why will they follow him? He might be some crackpot. Why did people listen to him?”“I ... I don’t know,” lied Vasilla, “but people believe in him. He gave an entire speech to a mosque already divided. At first half the mosque liked the amilsaab, and half did not, but now that the Imam has spoken, they are all following him.”“Vasilla, how many are following him?”“The entire mosque.”“How many, Vasilla?! Be specific!”“I would.
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