Paradise - Part Four (The Erotic Adventures of Sophia Durant) Read Online Free

into my own wine glass, which I’d set on the bedside table. Then I threw the vial in a thick garbage bag in one of my closets, along with both sets of gloves I was wearing. My hands were moist with sweat. I wiped my brow, which I noticed was also covered in sweat. I felt faint.
    I heard the toilet flush. Ava exited the bathroom and I went in. Looking in the mirror, I saw a ghost of a figure. I looked pale and gaunt, as though a good bit of life force had left me. Ironic, I thought. I washed my hands and went back out into the room.
    “I need to get some more wine. Want to go get some with me?”
    “Drink mine. I’ll roll another joint.”
    “I’d feel guilty if I drank yours. I can just wait.”
    “No. By all means, have some. I’m more into smoking, anyway. I’ll get some more when we go back out.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yes. Of course. Drink and be merry.” And be dead, bitch .
    “Thank you.”
    I watched with morbid glee as she reached for the glass. She must have been tipsy already because she stumbled, knocking the glass to the floor. The wine containing the p-210 spread in pool as the glass bounced on the floor.
    “I’m so sorry. Thank God it didn’t break.”
    I could feel my blood pressure rise through the roof. No fucking way, I thought.
    “Do you have a towel? I’ll clean it up as best I can.”
    “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up.”
    I reassured her, but inwardly I was anything but reassured. Now I had a radioactive puddle on the floor of my bedroom. How was I going to deal with that? I had never considered the possibility, and I felt stupid. The second vial was in a box in the closet where I’d disposed of the gloves and the first vial.
    “I’ve got some more weed in the closet. Let me get it. I think it’s better than the stuff we already smoked.”
    “That was some good shit. I’m buzzing like a motherfucker.”
    “That’s good.”
    With the door cracked I put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. I removed the dress gloves from the garbage bag and slipped those on over the rubber gloves. I entered the combination, unlocking the small box containing the other vial, and pocketed it.
    “I’m feeling so…tore up…I don’t know if I can even find…the wine…table…” she said when I got out of the closet.
    “Would you like some water?” I offered.
    Why didn’t I think of that before?
    “Oh, no. That would bring me down…off the clouds…cloud nine…if I had some…”
    She stared at me, lost in broken thought.
    “You sure? I have good spring water in the bathroom. I can fetch you some.”
    “No, no, no, no, no…no. I don’t want it…Just get me back…out there…I’ll find…another…drink…”
    I was afraid she would pass out in the room.
    “Good idea,” I said, helping her up and to the door.
    “What about the…the wine…I spilled?”
    “I’ll get that later.”
    Not too much later though. I don’t want the fucking radiation to spread . The situation was too ridiculous. I may even be killed because of my stupidity. The prevailing thought then was— Holy shit, how can I kill this cow ? I just wanted to get it over with.
    Somewhat miraculously, we made it back to the wine table. On the way there I had inserted the vial into the inside wrist part of my glove, with the screw cap barely sticking out. I had pulled the wrist of the rubber glove all the way to the end of my dress glove so that no part of the vial touched bare skin. It was enough of a serious health risk without the vial making contact with my skin. I wondered if the Russian spies who killed Litvinenko had faced such problems with administering the poison. Probably not. They probably just planted someone in the kitchen staff of one of his favorite hangouts. The spy prepared the tea in private and made sure it was served up to him. I wondered how many, if any, had died or were made terribly ill as a byproduct of the mission. What a fucked up thing to do. Then I thought about my own situation.