I Shot You Babe Read Online Free PDF

Leaning back and closing my eyes, I allowed the inevitable wash of college memories to flow. It’s funny how your brain disobeys you. I didn’t want to think about that. Fortunately, Sartre sank her teeth into my flesh and it all went away, dissolved in a mist of pain.
    That was the pig’s way of letting me know she had to pee. And since I didn’t want to get soaked, I decided to put her back in her cage. I threw in a few carrots and sat back down in the chair, willing myself to sleep.
    I didn’t sleep much. Sitting up in a chair, fully clothed, will do that to you. Morning slipped through the sheer curtains, stealing across Veronica’s face. She looked like she was lost. She kind of was, just didn’t know it.
    I decided to grab a quick shower. As I stepped out into the room wearing nothing but a towel, Veronica suddenly sat straight up. This time, she looked terrified.
    “Oh, God. Oh, no! We didn’t…did we?” The blanket slipped from her chest and she clawed at it to cover herself.
    I smiled. “What? You don’t remember?” Technically, I wasn’t lying. Granted, there was a certain amount of sordid innuendo there, but I really hadn’t confirmed anything.
    Her eyes widened. I hoped it was more that she regretted not remembering a night of passion with me. However, it appeared she was more concerned that she’d actually had a night of passion. This woman was uptight indeed.
    “Relax,” I said. “You were so drunk we couldn’t find your room, so I brought you here. Nothing happened.” Now, why did I say that? I could’ve had a good time with this.
    “Oh,” she said. Did I detect a note of regret? Or was that what I wanted to hear?
    I tossed her the big, fluffy hotel robe, and she slid into it and dashed for the bathroom.
    “What are you doing?” she asked a few moments later as she stepped out of the bathroom. Her hair was smoothed, face washed and teeth brushed. I wondered if she used my toothbrush. It wouldn’t have bothered me if she did. A germaphobe I ain’t.
    I looked down at the yarn and needles in my lap. “Knitting.”
    “You knit?” She seemed shocked.
    “Yes.” I held up the scarf I was working on. It was a lovely café-au-lait baby alpaca. I have to admit, I’m a bit of a yarn snob. Only the best will do.
    Veronica reached out and touched the scarf, fondling the fibers. It was a definite turn-on.
    “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, and pointed to the curving rows that ran through it. “What are these things called?”
    “Cables,” I answered. “They thicken the fabric, and I like the way they look.”
    “You told me you’re working in Florida. Why are you knitting a wool scarf?”
    “I’ve got a trip coming up.”
    I wondered why she didn’t press me for more information. Maybe she wasn’t that curious when it came to me.
    “I think it’s cool that you knit,” she said with a lopsided smile. Damn, it looked good on her.
    “Thanks. It’s kind of my form of meditation.”
    “Like yoga?”
    “No, more like Buddhism.” That was true. I found working with yarn and needles very soothing. It gave me something to do while I thought about whatever I wanted to think about. Knitting was something of a Bombay family tradition, although to the best of my knowledge I was the only man who did it. That didn’t bother me.
    “Well, I guess I’d better get back to my room,” Veronica said abruptly.
    I nodded. “I’ll walk you there.”
    “You don’t have to. I may have forgotten last night, but I know where it is now.”
    “I insist. Besides, I want my bathrobe back.”
    She cocked her head to one side. “I was just going to put on my dress from last night.”
    “Then everyone from your conference who sees you will know what you were up to last night. At least in a robe, they might figure you’ve just been for a morning swim.”
    A look of fear spread across her face. She nodded and I picked up my keys and led her to the door.
    I started laughing exactly one minute