solid terrain of the investigation.
“It doesn’t surprise me so much,” Lizard replied. “He’d mutilate himself to save his neck of course. It’s actually quite common: lizards leave their tails behind in order to escape. Wild boars and wolves bite off paws caught in traps. Life blindly insists on living no matter the cost.”
Life blindly insisted on continuing to live. Yes, it was true, thought Bruna through a haze of alcohol. She knew it well. She felt that urgency, that fury, that rage, that yearning, that fear, but would she be capable of self-mutilation? She barely had three years of life left. Three years, ten months, and seven days. What would each day gained cost her? How many grams of flesh? How many millimeters of skin? How many splinters of bone? How many strips of torn tendon? Wouldn’t it be too high a price for her short, miserable existence? The bar was becoming more packed by the minute, and someone gave the techno a shove. Bruna briefly lost her balance, maybe because of her inebriation, or maybe because she was pretending to be more drunk than she really was—she’d downed too much wine to make such fine distinctions. To recover her balance, she grabbed Lizard’s chest, a strong and welcoming wall. She was so close to him that she could smell his sharp odor of leather, the forest, smoking wood. She stayed like that, leaning against that scorching flesh, and raised her face. How wonderful to have to raise her head to look at a man.
“Why did you want to see me?” Lizard said.
“To talk about the case.”
“Why did you want to see me?” he repeated with such urgency that he sounded irritated.
Bruna stretched her neck and bit the policeman’s mouth. A restrained bite, bordering on painful, but without drawing blood. A quick nip, enough to take note of Lizard’s warm, slightly grazed lips, to sense him give a start; enough for a fire to devastate her sex, eager and open under her skirt. The rep pushed herself away from the inspector and, stumbling slightly, headed for the restroom. She walked into one of the two stalls and leaned breathlessly against the wall at the back next to the toilet as the door banged against its frame. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, and her entire body was a painful throb of desire. Her mind a blank, she heard someone come in. Footsteps approached, and then the stall door opened. Lizard fell on top of her with the force of an enemy soldier. Despite their combined size, they writhed inside the small space. They filled each other’s mouths, bit each other’s necks, grabbed hold of one another, pulled, scratched, and, without removing their clothes, melted together into a moaning, demented animal with two heads, until they exploded into a small, quick, intense death, an orgasm that felt like a stab wound.
Bruna returned from a faraway inhuman place. She was jammed in the narrow space next to the toilet, standing upright with her back against the wall, still joined to Lizard and partially supporting his weight as he crushed her against the wall. The inspector’s head was buried in her neck and he was very still, as was she. A moment of absolute stillness after the agony and the fury. Lizard’s breathing, still erratic, was audible in the silence. The policeman’s hands were propped up against the wall. He was still inside her but didn’t even seem aware of her presence. Suddenly, Bruna felt an urgent need for some proof that she meant something to him. She needed a kiss, a whispered word, a caress, a look. But the man’s huge body was transmitting only self-absorption, indifference, coldness, distance. They were still coupled like dogs, but he felt so far away. His absence hurt. It was a wound opening in her belly, an ever-deepening, ever more maddening laceration. The impossibility of being loved. Bruna had her arms around the inspector’s broad shoulders, and the affectionate intimacy of the gesture suddenly seemed unbearable to her. She gave him
“It doesn’t surprise me so much,” Lizard replied. “He’d mutilate himself to save his neck of course. It’s actually quite common: lizards leave their tails behind in order to escape. Wild boars and wolves bite off paws caught in traps. Life blindly insists on living no matter the cost.”
Life blindly insisted on continuing to live. Yes, it was true, thought Bruna through a haze of alcohol. She knew it well. She felt that urgency, that fury, that rage, that yearning, that fear, but would she be capable of self-mutilation? She barely had three years of life left. Three years, ten months, and seven days. What would each day gained cost her? How many grams of flesh? How many millimeters of skin? How many splinters of bone? How many strips of torn tendon? Wouldn’t it be too high a price for her short, miserable existence? The bar was becoming more packed by the minute, and someone gave the techno a shove. Bruna briefly lost her balance, maybe because of her inebriation, or maybe because she was pretending to be more drunk than she really was—she’d downed too much wine to make such fine distinctions. To recover her balance, she grabbed Lizard’s chest, a strong and welcoming wall. She was so close to him that she could smell his sharp odor of leather, the forest, smoking wood. She stayed like that, leaning against that scorching flesh, and raised her face. How wonderful to have to raise her head to look at a man.
“Why did you want to see me?” Lizard said.
“To talk about the case.”
“Why did you want to see me?” he repeated with such urgency that he sounded irritated.
Bruna stretched her neck and bit the policeman’s mouth. A restrained bite, bordering on painful, but without drawing blood. A quick nip, enough to take note of Lizard’s warm, slightly grazed lips, to sense him give a start; enough for a fire to devastate her sex, eager and open under her skirt. The rep pushed herself away from the inspector and, stumbling slightly, headed for the restroom. She walked into one of the two stalls and leaned breathlessly against the wall at the back next to the toilet as the door banged against its frame. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, and her entire body was a painful throb of desire. Her mind a blank, she heard someone come in. Footsteps approached, and then the stall door opened. Lizard fell on top of her with the force of an enemy soldier. Despite their combined size, they writhed inside the small space. They filled each other’s mouths, bit each other’s necks, grabbed hold of one another, pulled, scratched, and, without removing their clothes, melted together into a moaning, demented animal with two heads, until they exploded into a small, quick, intense death, an orgasm that felt like a stab wound.
Bruna returned from a faraway inhuman place. She was jammed in the narrow space next to the toilet, standing upright with her back against the wall, still joined to Lizard and partially supporting his weight as he crushed her against the wall. The inspector’s head was buried in her neck and he was very still, as was she. A moment of absolute stillness after the agony and the fury. Lizard’s breathing, still erratic, was audible in the silence. The policeman’s hands were propped up against the wall. He was still inside her but didn’t even seem aware of her presence. Suddenly, Bruna felt an urgent need for some proof that she meant something to him. She needed a kiss, a whispered word, a caress, a look. But the man’s huge body was transmitting only self-absorption, indifference, coldness, distance. They were still coupled like dogs, but he felt so far away. His absence hurt. It was a wound opening in her belly, an ever-deepening, ever more maddening laceration. The impossibility of being loved. Bruna had her arms around the inspector’s broad shoulders, and the affectionate intimacy of the gesture suddenly seemed unbearable to her. She gave him
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