"Here, try
this one," then a foolish giggle, presumably belonging to whoever
it was who fit into such tiny heels.
Greta stepped up to the platform and slid the door open, just in
time to see Matthew, chopsticks in hand, placing a dripping pink
piece of raw fish into the mouth of a young pretty thing. The
girl sat with her eyes closed and head titled back slightly,
wriggled her tongue in anticipation. Matthew's other hand was
hidden beneath the girl's hair, supporting her neck.
Looking up and encountering his wife's stunned expression,
Matthew jerked impulsively, and in doing so plunged the chunk of
raw fish into the girl's mouth. Her eyes snapped open, and she
made a revolting sound. Her hands flew to her throat. She was
choking.
Matthew struck the girl sharply on the back, and with a great
popping cough, the pink thing flew from her mouth into her cupped
hand.
Seeing that the girl's airway was free, Matthew turned to his
wife. Getting up, his napkin fell into the tray of sushi. As he
reached for it, his feet encountered an obstacle, and in an
effort to prevent himself from crashing through the window, he
caught the edge of the table, managing to tip over their mugs of
tea, as well as knock most of the remaining sushi onto the floor.
"Sit down, Matthew," Greta said with a disgusted flap of her
hand.
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