Early in the morning I had gotten up, gone into the toilet and spread lather all over my face to shave. Two sinks were in the toilet; Louise was standing completely nude at one sink, getting ready for the day. Suddenly I reached over, grabbed her and pulled her to me. When she resisted and pulled away, I said, "Louise, I want to know."
She knew what I was talking about: I knew she had been seeing another man and I wanted to know if she had had sex with him.
She complained that we had made an agreement that as long as we were living together, we weren't going to bother each other and ask each other questions. I persisted and said, "I need to know. I have to know."
She wanted to know exactly what I wanted to know, even though I was sure she knew what I was talking about. She grinned slightly. We continued the same conversation for several minutes. First I had the feeling she had been having sex with someone else, then I felt as if she hadn't. My mind went back and forth. I asked again, "I want to know if you've consummated this relationship with this other man. I want to know if you fucked him."
I picked her up and carried her to the bed. I had also lathered my hair and my head was covered with shampoo. I still had shaving cream on my face. A bit of lather smeared on her face when I carried her and I thought some lather went into her mouth. I put her down on the bed and said, "Louise, I want to know what the truth is and I'm entitled to know."
A sick look seemed to pass over her face and thin brown vomit suddenly began flowing from her mouth and over onto the bed. She was obviously very sick.
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