Instead, her face turned into a kind of mask, a death mask-- expressionless and totally immobile--as though she had suddenly thrown a switch which had...shut off all feelings, both mental and physical. Cash bent down and cupped his hands over her large nakedly swinging breasts, and she remained still, looking like a statue of a Greek Aphrodite with only a slight quivering of her nostrils belying the anger and revulsion building deep inside her."I love a good loser," the stocky convict chortled,. It looked like he was waving a stick or something. He'd poke into the bushes a little, then he'd take a mighty swing, sending roses and thorns in every direction. It occurred to me he was using a golf club. From its length and the distance the flora was flying, I judged it to be a three iron. His long game appeared to be quite strong. I turned and crawled toward the front yard. I timed my retreat to coincide with his swing. I had noticed a flaw in his follow through that gave me hope. His head. More

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