She turned with a sheepish, pleading look in her eyes.
“Get out!” he shouted loudly. As she hastily made for the door, Terrance grabbed her clothes again and threw them in her direction. She turned, backing out, gathering her skirt, her blouse and underclothes into her arms before she fled down the balcony to her room.
The party next door was still going on. The s*x continued; partners switched and switched again. The sounds of laughter and general debauchery soared to the roof of the boardinghouse along with the sounds from scratchy jazz recordings blaring on the phonograph. Even behind closed doors, the air reeked with smoke, the smell of gin and wine, and the coarse conversation of the lewdly inebriated. A high-spirited and merry activity continued into the night.
***
Aimee heard
