“I suppose that I should jump to his defense, but at the moment I’m leaning toward your point of view.”“He’s fantasizing about a nympho, and...he has a hot woman out here drinking wine by herself. Would you like to dance?”The question caught her off guard. The DJ had joined the others next door, but a string of what she called rhythmic stripper tunes had been loaded into the computerized sound system. “Sure,” she said.She accepted his outstretched hand as she rose to her feet abandoning a clear. In his beer-fogged brain, the fact that he’d bumped his head was somehow his wife’s fault, too. After all, if she had stayed home where she was supposed to be, he wouldn’t be sitting here now. He’d totally forgotten about raping Eileen Frenette. Actually, he didn’t consider what he’d done to her rape. In his opinion, she’d gotten exactly what she’d asked for. The way he looked at it, her resistance was just her way of making herself feel less guilty about trading her body for getting out of a. More

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