How It Ends: Part 1 - The Evaluation Read Free Page A

power in her hands and knew how to
wield it. This girl knew how to slap.
    “Don’t do that again,” he snarled.
    She responded with her left hand. His face
was now symmetrical. The right side of his face hurt more. He saw
the movement of her body. He turned his face to roll with the slap.
She used her left hand against his right side and he leaned into
the slap inadvertently. His eyes dimmed to a faded color of red
rims. He breathed heavily. Control. It’s all about control, don’t
lose it, don’t lose control. Keep your cool. Keep your hands at
your sides. He flexed his hands and realized they were balled into
fists. He wanted to hit her, to punch her face, to spin her around
and yank down her pants and hit her again in the head and bend her
over and thrust into her and plow her until she begged him to stop,
to stop, to please dear god stop. He closed his eyes and took
another deep breath and opened them again. The girl remained
stock-still and defiant. She cocked her head at him.
    “Give me a job,” she said.
    “What?”
    “You heard me. Give me a job. “
    “What kind of job?”
    “A TA job.”
    “A TA job? You want me to give you a TA
job?”
    “Yes.”
    “After you hit me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Twice. Hit me twice.”
    “Yes.”
    His rage reached its boiling point. There
came a moment when his hands began to lift at his sides in a
preparatory gesture for striking her and he nearly took a step
closer. The moment he thought he’d explode. The absurdity and
brazenness of her request, a non sequitur for their angry tableau.
He burst out laughing.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Anita.”
    “Anita what?”
    “Anita Lory.”
    “Well Anita Lory, I must say, you certainly
have a monstrous set of balls. Bigger stones than most men I
know.”
    “So you’ll do it.”
    “No.”
    He could see her face scrunch up. Don’t tell
me she’s going to cry, he thought. But she wasn’t. Not cry. Rather
the preparation for another swing. He understood at the right
moment, the last moment.
    She swung.
    He expected it and knew which hand would do
the striking. Two slaps and he’d already absorbed this girl’s body
language. It made blocking her blow easy. He put up his left hand
and grabbed her arm. Twist it, something inside him said. Twist it
until it snaps. Yet he didn’t. He let go of her arm.
    They stared each other down like a pair of
cats circling each other, each seeking the weakest point to attack.
She was lovely. Very lovely. Maybe we can do this differently. Maybe we can attack this from a different angle and still get
the results we want. Maybe I can still get that ever-so-fine piece
of ass.
    “I don’t have a TA job available. But I’ll
tell you what.”
    “What?”
    “I do have a research project going on. I
could use an assistant.”
    She nodded. “When do I start?”
    “Right now. Grab your bag. Let’s go get some
coffee.”
    “I have a class.”
    “Skip it. I’ll write you a note.”
    She grabbed her bag and they went out for
coffee where they discussed the research assistant job and many
more things. No piece of ass tonight but the future looks
bright.

    * * *

    The scone was gone. What crumbs remained
swept onto the floor by his hand. The coffee half-drunk. He glanced
at his watch. Late again. Then again she always was. He teased her
about never being on time saying that if she were lucky she’d be
late to her own funeral. She told him to shut up and then smiled
her sheepish smile. It was coy and coquettish and he loved it. It
made him hard. So different from the girl who slapped him. Her many
faces. She was an animal in bed and it turned him on when she
played the innocent and then became completely unraveled sexually.
She could pleasure him like few others ever had. She did things few
did. She let him do things others had slapped him for.
    When she was late he wanted to kill her.
    Serves you right.
    Shut up.
    I hope she breaks your heart, you selfish
cold bastard.
    Shut up.
    He shoved the