But see, you stand there listening to me, and seeing me, and smelling me, and it’s already too late. So now -’ her voice had sunk to an insinuating whisper, and her eyes narrowed as she spoke ‘- what will you do?’"
"Gwillam was staring at Juliet in fixed astonishment. His mouth had fallen open a little way, as though he’d been about to speak and then been struck by some insight that took his breath away. He made a strangled sound that had no consonants in it.
‘Come to me,’ Juliet said, raising her hand.
Gwillam came, stumbling down the stairs with a rocking gait. His movements were as stiff and uncoordinated as a zombie’s: so much of his mind was taken up with Juliet that there was barely enough left to handle basic motor functions. He walked right up to her, and then stopped when she raised a hand to signal that he’d come close enough.
She stood facing him, her breasts thrust forward, her head on one side in a parody of coquetry.
‘You may love God, Thomas,’ Juliet growled, ‘but now you’ve learned a different love“ diem"". I hope you think of me often. And I know that whenever you think of me, God will be far from you.’
The joke was getting a little thin. I’d needed Juliet to get me in here, and I guess I’d known all along that she wasn’t going to let Gwillam go with a warning.
‘Break it up,’ I told Juliet.
‘When I’m finished. Kneel, Thomas. Kneel and pray to me.’
Gwillam was about to comply when I punched him in the mouth and sent him sprawling. The gun flew out of his hand and clunked away end over end into a corner.
Juliet shot me a look of pure rage, which was actually something of a relief. I didn’t want to feel what she’d just made Gwillam feel: I’d been there, and seeing it happen to him had brought the whole thing back: the seismic, heart-stopping lust, the almost unbearable pleasure, and the black abyss of cold turkey afterwards.
‘Your point’s made,’ I said. ‘My turn. My show.