The Camp Whore
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Оглавление
Francois Smith. The Camp Whore
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Отрывок из книги
Francois Smith
Translated by Dominique Botha
.....
She stared at his back. His long, duck-like strides, his sunken shoulders. Poor thing, she thought, and recoiled, as if it were he who’d turned and hurled the words at her. Poor, poor thing! But he had simply walked up the stairs and let the front door slam shut behind him.
Jacobs swings his leg over the sputtering motorbike’s saddle, glances at her over his shoulder before slipping into gear and roaring down the street. The momentum pushes her against the seat; alarmed, she glances first to her left and then to her right and grabs hold of the rim of the sidecar. She thought she had already figured it out, that thing with Jacques, but it kept churning in her thoughts as houses, people and trees flashed past, a strange, strange confrontation. After all, there had been nothing between them. He was an occasional companion of sorts. Yes, that’s the word, companion. Perhaps the problem was that the occasions had been determined by her, and by her alone. Anyhow, that’s the conclusion she had come to: that he had found her too presumptuous, too controlling. But now she wonders. Once again, she sees the reed-cutters slowly standing up, their sickles swing, she hears the blades slicing through the grass, she feels his trembling skin under her fingertips. He must have felt it too. But what, exactly?
.....