Jennifer and Courtney slipped into the room with glasses of water and a plate of cookies. They stopped long enough to just touch each of us lightly and then left the room, closing the door behind them. Rhonda's sucking slowed with a little hiccup as she drifted into sleep and Rose breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled and reached across our sleeping girlfriend to touch my face."It's the bid for the lighting for our kitchen studio," I whispered. "It's really high. She must feel like she failed as a producer. I know she passed all her high school tests." What are you going to do?" Rose asked. "She's been looking forward to producing that show more than anything else." I just ... this seems impossible. I need to talk to Harvey. Can you hold her while I make a call?" I asked."Yes. It was pretty ... um ... intense at first. It's okay now. In fact, it's really nice." Rhonda's sucking had slowed to the point that her lips were against Rose's breast but her cheeks only pulled once every. In fact, I recoiled in fear, needing some physical distance from that image. It felt as if my mother was inside the screen, about to grab me by the arm. I crossed my arms over my chest and turned away from it. I had no idea how powerful that image would be - or how easy it would be to find it.On the first shot, I had hit the exact, precise hairbrush that had sat on my dressing table, threatening me every day of my life, until it was broken in half when I was twelve or thirteen. It was the hairbrush that my mother had routinely used to spank me when I was growing up.It was impossible. Somehow, that - thing - had been out there, waiting for me for what? Eleven, maybe twelve years? And it was just as powerful, just as terrifying as ever.Usually, I saw it in my mother's hand as she held it, back side toward me, ready to hit. From my perspective, the white bristles looked like an old woman's hair. The brush had this persona for me of a cruel old woman - or a ghost of an old woman.I looked.
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