cb.damnationgame-第49节

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ntempt；　as　was　the　jiber。
　　〃If　I　were　you；　Marty；〃　Whitehead　said　from　the　other　end　of　the　table；　〃I'd　break　his　neck。〃　Marty　shrugged。　〃Why　bother？〃　he　said。
　　〃Seems　to　me；　you're　not　so　dangerous　after　all；〃　Ottaway　went　on。
　　〃Who　said　I　was　dangerous？〃　The　smirk　the　lawyer　wore　deepened。　〃I　mean。　We　were　expecting　an　animal　act；　you　know？〃　Ottaway　moved　a　bottle　to　get　a　better　look　at　Marty。　〃We　were　promised…〃　The　conversation　around　the　table　had　ground　to　a　halt；　but　Ottaway　didn't　seem　to　notice。　〃Still；　nothing's　quite　as　advertised；　is　it？〃　he　said。　〃I　mean；　you　ask　any　one　of　these　godforsaken　gentlemen。〃　The　table　was　a　still…life；　Ottaway's　arm　swept　around　to　include　everyone　in　his　tirade。　〃We　know；　don't　we？　We　know　how　disappointing　life　can　be。〃　〃Shut　up；〃　Curtsinger　snapped。　He　stared　woozily　at　Ottaway。　〃We　don't　want　to　hear。〃　〃We　may　not　get　another　chance；　my　dear　James；〃　Ottaway　replied；　his　courtesy　contemptuous。　〃Don't　you　think　we　should　all　admit　the　truth？　We　are　in　extremis！　Oh　yes；　my　friends。　We　should　all　get　down　on　our　knees　and　confess！〃　〃Yes；　yes；〃　said　Stephanie。　She　was　trying　to　stand　but　her　legs　were　of　another　mind。　Her　dress；　the　back　unzipped；　threatened　to　slip。　〃Let's　all　confess；〃　she　said。
　　Dwoskin　pulled　her　back　into　her　chair。
　　〃We'll　be　here　all　night；〃　he　said。　Emily　giggled。　Ottaway；　undeterred；　was　still　talking。
　　〃Seems　to　me；〃　he　said；　〃he's　probably　the　only　innocent　one　amongst　us。〃　Ottaway　pointed　at　Marty。　〃I　mean；　look　at　him。　He　doesn't　even　know　what　I'm　talking　about。〃　The　remarks　were　beginning　to　irritate　Marty。　But　there'd　be　precious　little　satisfaction　in　threatening　the　lawyer。　In　his　present　state　Ottaway　would　crumble　under　one　blow。　His　bleary　eyes　didn't　look　far　from　unconsciousness。　〃You　disappoint　me；〃　Ottaway　murmured；　with　genuine　regret　in　his　voice；　〃I　thought　we'd　end　better　than　this　。　。　。〃　Dwoskin　stood　up。　〃I've　got　a　toast；〃　he　announced。　〃I　want　to　toast　the　women。〃　〃Now　there's　an　idea；〃　Curtsinger　said。　〃But　we'll　need　a　fire。〃　Oriana　thought　this　the　funniest　remark　she'd　heard　all　night。
　　〃The　women！〃　Dwoskin　declared；　raising　his　glass。　But　nobody　was　listening。　Emily；　who　had　been　lamblike　so　far；　had　suddenly　taken　it　into　her　head　to　strip　off。　She'd　pushed　her　chair　back　and　was　now　unbuttoning　her　blouse。　She　wore　nothing　beneath；　her　nipples　looked　rouged；　as　if　in　preparation　for　this　unveiling。　Curtsinger　applauded；　Ottaway　and　Whitehead　joined　in　with　a　chorus　of　encouraging　remarks。
　　〃What　do　you　think？〃　Curtsinger　asked　Marty。　〃Your　type；　is　she？　And　they're　all　her　own；　aren't　they；　sweetheart？〃　〃You　want　to　feel？〃　Emily　offered。　She'd　discarded　her　blouse；　she　was　now　naked　from　the　waist　up。　〃e　on；〃　she　said；　taking　hold　of　Marty's　hand　and　pressing　it　against　her　breast；　working　it　around　and　around。
　　〃Oh；　yes；〃　said　Curtsinger；　leering　at　Marty。　〃He　likes　that。　I　can　tell　he　likes　that。〃　〃Of　course　he　does；〃　Marty　heard　Whitehead　say。　His　gaze；　not　too　focused；　slid　in　the　old　man's　direction。　Whitehead　met　it　head…on：　the　hooded　eyes　were　devoid　of　humor　or　arousal。　〃Go　on；〃　he　said。　〃She's　all　yours。　That's　what　she's　here　for。〃　Marty　heard　the　words　but　couldn't　make　proper　sense　of　them。　He　pulled　his　hand　off　the　girl's　flesh　as　if　scalded。
　　〃Go　to　Hell；〃　he　said。
　　Curtsinger　had　stood　up。　〃Now　don't　be　a　spoilsport；〃　he　rebuked　Marty；　〃we　only　want　to　see　what　you're　made　of。〃　Down　the　table；　Oriana　had　started　to　laugh　again；　Marty　wasn't　sure　at　what。　Dwoskin　was　banging　his　hand；　palm　down；　on　the　table。　The　bottles　jumped　in　rhythm。
　　〃Go　on；〃　Whitehead　told　Marty。　They　were　all　looking　at　him。　He　turned　to　face　Emily。　She　was　standing　a　yard　away　from　him；　attempting　the　catch　of　her　skirt。　There　was　something　undeniably　erotic　about　her　exhibitionism。　Marty's　trousers　felt　tight：　his　head　too。　Curtsinger　had　his　hands　on　Marty's　shoulders　and　was　trying　to　slip　off　his　jacket。　The　tattoo　Dwoskin　was　beating　on　the　table；　which　Ottaway　had　now　taken　up；　made　Marty's　head　dance。
　　Emily　had　succeeded　with　the　catch；　and　her　skirt　was　at　her　feet。　Now；　without　prompting；　she　pulled　off　her　panties　and　stood　in　front　of　the　assembled　pany　wearing　only　pearls　and　high…heeled　shoes。　Naked；　she　looked　young　enough　to　be　jailbait：　fourteen；　fifteen；　at　most。　Her　skin　was　creamy。　Somebody's　hand…Oriana's；　he　thought；　was　massaging　Marty's　erection。　He　half…turned：　it　wasn't　her　at　all；　but　Curtsinger。　He　pushed　the　hand　away。　Emily　had　stepped　toward　him　and　was　unbuttoning　his　shirt　from　the　bottom　up。　He　tried　to　stand　to　say　something　to　Whitehead。　The　words　weren't　there　yet；　but　he　badly　wanted　to　find　them：　wanted　to　tell　the　old　man　what　a　cheat　he　was。　More　than　a　cheat：　he　was　scum；　dirty…minded　scum。　This　was　why　he'd　been　invited　up　here；　plied　with　wine　and　dirty　talk。　The　old　man　had　wanted　to　see　him　naked　and　rutting。
　　Marty　pushed　Curtsinger's　hand　away　a　second　time：　the　touch　was　horribly　expert。　He　looked　along　the　table　to　Whitehead；　who　was　pouring　himself　another　glass　of　wine。　Dwoskin's　gaze　was　fixed　on　Emily's　nakedness；　Ottaway's　on　Marty。　Both　had　given　up　slapping　the　table。　The　lawyer's　stare　said　everything：　he　was　sickly　pale；　sweaty　anticipation　on　his　face。
　　〃Go　on；〃　he　said；　his　breath　ragged；　〃go　on；　take　her。　Give　us　a　show　to　remember。　Or　haven't　you　got　anything　worth　displaying？〃　Marty　heard　the　sense　too　late　to　reply；　the　naked　child　was　pressing　herself　against　him；　and　somebody　（Curtsinger）　was　trying　to　unbutton　the　top　of　his　trousers。　He　made　one　last；　ungainly　lunge　at　equilibrium。
　　〃Stop　this；〃　he　murmured；　looking　at　the　old　man。
　　〃What's　the　problem？〃　Whitehead　asked　lightly。。
　　〃Joke　over；〃　Marty　said。　There　was　a　hand　in　his　trousers；　reaching　for　his　erection。　〃Get　the　fuck　off　me！〃　He　shoved　Curtsinger　back　with　more　force　than　he'd　planned。　The　big　man　stumbled　and　fell　against　the　wall。　〃What's　wrong　with　you　people？〃　Emily　took　a　step　back　from　him　to　avoid　Marty's　flailing　arm。　The　wine　was　boiling　up　in　his　belly　and　throat。　His　trousers　jutted。　He　looked；　he　knew；　absurd。　Oriana　was　still　laughing：　riot　just　her；　Dwoskin　too；　and　Stephanie。　Ottaway　just　stared。
　　〃You　never　seen　a　fucking　hard…on　before？〃　he　spat　at　them　all。
　　〃Where's　your　sense　of　humor？〃　Ottaway　said。　〃We　just　want　a　floor　show。　Where's　the　harm？〃　Marty　jabbed　a　finger　in　Whitehead's　direction。　〃I　trusted　you；〃　he　said。　It　was　all　he　could　find　to　shape　his　hurt。
　　〃That　was　an　error　then；　wasn't　it？〃　Dwoskin　mented。　He　spoke　as　if　to　an　imbecile。
　　〃You　fucking　shut　up！〃　Fighting　back　the　urge　to　break　somebody's　face…anybody's　would　do…Marty　pulled　on　his　jacket；　and　with　one　backsweep　of　his　hand　cleared　a　dozen　bottles；　most　of　them　full；　off　the　table。　Emily　screamed　as　they　shattered　around　her　feet；　but　Marty　didn't　wait　to　see　how　much　damage　he'd　done。　He　backed　off　from　the　table　and　stumbled　toward　the　door。　The　key　was　in　the　lock；　he　opened　it　and　stepped　into　the　hallway。　Behind　him　Emily　had　begun　to　bawl　like　a　baby　just　woken　from　a　nightmare；　he　could　hear　her　all　the　way　down　the　darkened　corridor。　He　hoped　to　God　his　jittering　limbs　would　bear　him　up。　He　wanted　out：　into　the　air；　into　the　night。　He　lurched　down　the　back　staircase；　hand　outstretched　against　the　wall　for　support；　the　steps　receding　beneath　his　feet。　He　reached　the　kitchen　having　fallen　only　once；　and　opened　the　back　door。　The　night　was　waiting。　Nothing　to　see　him；　nothing　to　know　him。　He　breathed　in　cold　black　air；　and　it　burned　in　his　nostrils　and　lungs。　He　staggered　across　the　lawn；　almost　blind；　not　knowing　which　direction　he　was　going　in；　until　he　thought　of　the　woods。　Taking　a　moment　to　reorientate　himself；　he　ran　toward　them；　begging　their　discretion。
　　
　　46
　　He　ran；　the　undergrowth　dragging　at　his　legs；　until　he　was　so　deep　in　the　stand　of　trees　he　could　see　neither　the　house　nor　its　lights。　Only　then　did　he　stop；　his　whole　body　thumping　like　one　vast　heart。　His　head　felt　loose　on　his　neck；　bile　gurgled　at　the　back　of　his　throat。
　　〃Jesus。　Jesus。　Jesus。〃　For　a　moment；　his　gyrating　head　lost　control：　his　ears　whined；　his　eyes　blurred。　He　was　suddenly　certain　of　nothing；　not　even　his　physical　existence。　Panic　crawled　up　from　his　bowels；　raking　the　tissue　of　his　gut　and　his　stomach　as　it　came。
　　〃Get　down；〃　he　told　it。　Only　once　before　had　he　felt　so　close　to　losing　his　mind…to　throwing　back　his　head　and　screaming…and　that　had　been　the　first　night　at　Wandsworth；　the　first　of　many　years　of　nights　locked　in　a　cell　twelve　by　eight。　He'd　sat　on　the　edge　of　the　mattress　and　felt　what　he　was　feeling　now。　The　blind　beast　ascending；　squeezing　adrenaline　from　his　spleen。　He'd　mastered　the　terror　then；　and　he　could　do　it　again。　Brutally；　he　stuck　his　fingers　as　far　down　his　throat　as　he　could　reach；　and　was　rewarded　with　a　surge　of　nausea。　The　reflex　begun；　he　let　his　body　do　the　rest；　throwing　up　a　system　full　of　undigested　wine。　It　was　a　filthy；　cleansing　experience；　and　he　made　no　effort　to　control　the　spasms　until　there　was　nothing　left　to　vomit。
　　His　stomach　muscles　aching　from　the　contractions；　he　uprooted　some　f