CHAPTER 29Ilana felt out of place on the bus, with her false mink coat and her crocodile leather bag. The men stared at her knees, just below her skirt, as the bus tumbled along. There was absolutely nothing to see, and she let them see it, even helping her legs a bit to follow the movements of the carriage. The women stared at her bag, guessing the contents. She knew the ugly name they gave it, Beischlafutensilienkoffer -- cohabitation utensil portmanteau. Ignoring their stares, she opened it just wide enough to take out a nail file. She had plenty of time to kill.
What do I tell Michael, though?
“I danced for a handicapped scientist”? (He won't believe it.) “I stripped for a man in a wheelchair?” (He's gonna think this is hilarious.)
“I let him touch my p***y”? “I let his finger do th
