Chapter 17
She was in bed, a small bed in a small upstairs room which had only one light. She was smiling, half asleep, her every nerves melted to ooze.
Gordon looked down, the girl's tiny body resting in a sea of sheets and fluffy mattress.
A man wearing a white coat examined the girl's eyes. He shone a beam of light into the pupil, watching the iris contract several times before snapping the light beam off. He breathed heavily and reached for a cigarette.
"Well, doctor," Gordon said.
The doctor, a small turnip shaped man with thick glasses and a brush moustache sucked on the cigarette. He looked off in the distance, his mind drifting to other patients.
"It will be hard to pinpoint," the doctor answered. "She may come out of it in one day. Perhaps more. Cases such as these are difficult."
Gordon watched, then turning to the doctor, put a hand on his shoulder.
"Doc, you don't know what happened," Gordon began.
And the doctor, his head cocked back and his eyes bulging out from behind the glasses, waved Gordon silent.
"I can tell you a girl can only take so much stimulation," he said. "And from examining this girl, she got just too damn much."
On the way downstairs, Gordon explained as best he could the events of the past few days. The doctor listened impassively and, upon reaching the living room, he sat next to Margaret and puffed on his cigarette.
"I don't blame you all one bit," he said slowly. "In my youth these things happened, but not as commonly as they happen today. It used to be very exclusive stuff. Now, well, everyone is having group sex."
"It's the only way," said Margaret.
"And how," said Jackie.