“Yes? can I do anything for—”

The wop swung his knee against the—it was cabin “87”, in copper numbers—door. The chain snapped, whipping her cheek. The door edge hit her face and the knob jammed her stomach. She let out all her air and stumbled.

Hogg chuckled.

She looked too scared to make a sound. Her pink bathrobe was all knotted in her fingers against her belly.

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, shook her head—her hair had been sprayed into complicated shapes; one started falling. As she swung her head back and forth, they shook like blond balloons.

The nigger, with one hand on the door jamb, drawled, “Shit …!” His zipper rasped.

She screamed.

Hogg stepped in and hit her, hard, in the face. Which stopped the scream. He chuckled again.

Beside me, Denny’s mouth hung loose. His eyelids were crimped, squinting. His dirty knuckles creased and uncreased around his dick as he leaned around Nigg to see.

She tried to back away, shaking her head, whispering, “Look—!”

Hogg grabbed the terrycloth shoulders of her robe with both hands.

“—I don’t know what this is, I really don’t! But you people better get out of here! Look, I’m telling you, get out!”

Hogg moved her a little to one side, then a little to the other—she almost stumbled—and she kept shaking her head.

He jerked the robe open, yanking it down her arms. She stumbled again and tried to cover her tits. They were big, and the gray nipples pushed out between her fingers. She looked about twenty-four, or maybe even twenty-five; and very frightened.

“Nigger,” Hogg said, “fuck this bitch.”

The nigger stepped up beside Hogg, grinning, his hand in his fly.

When Hogg let go, she went right back into the wall. And kicked out. The wop dodged, caught her ankle, and yanked. She went down on her ass.

A china cat fell over on the table.

“Oh, look, please …”

Her slipper was that gold cloth stuff, only the sole was almost worn through and had pulled loose on the edge. The wop twisted her ankle. She pushed herself up on one hand and opened her mouth. Her slipper came off. Her toenails were apple red.

“Please—”

“Shut up!” The wop jerked her leg. She let go her robe and grabbed the table leg. The cat rolled, then rolled back.

She wore black panties.

“You ever had a barefoot nigger fuck you, bitch?”

“Hey,” Hogg said. “Look at that black bastard’s tool. That’s goin’ right up your sweet little pink pussy.”

“Shit.” The nigger spat on one palm, then the other, then caught his dick in both hands, going down it with one and the other fist. “I ain’t goin’ in no pussy. Ah’m a’ asshole nigger!” He grinned. The scar wrinkled.

The wop let her ankle fall on the carpet and laughed, stepping backwards, pushing the heel of one hand down the front of his jump suit. Under the blue grease-blackened cloth, you could see his cock hardening.