I…I couldn’t…not…not after what…what happened there,’ she stammered. ‘Good,’ Tim said, ‘the lab guys ought to be able to get evidenc... from the sheets.’ ‘He…he tore up the speeding ticket he gave me, and he…he threw it on me,’ Eileen said, and again dissolved into sobs. Tim got up, walked to the bed, and saw the torn fragments of paper lying there. He put on a pair of rubber gloves, carefully picked up the pieces of paper, carried then to the desk along one wall of the motel room and sat down at. He had nothing else in his life now. So few things he couldretain control or pleasure over. He had the memories of his former life,his futon, and his desire for his mistress' decadent jism. Beforeswallowing it he rolled the globule around his mouth and under histongue. After it had sank down his throat he would search the corners ofhis mouth and the nooks of his gums for any stray particles. Finding nonehe could only take solace in the memory of the experience. This was asmall comfort. More

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