By Paul Preuss
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I could tell,” she said. ” He chuckled. ” He gently disengaged and sat up beside her. ‘Tonight’s a bonus. ” Her fingernails meandered across his belly, but she said noth-ing. “Tell me about Geneva. ” “Not as exciting as he made it sound. ” “Let me guess. ” She pushed her face into his side, laughing, blowing hot bub-bles against his skin. He laughed too, but not so freely. “This was supposed to be a vacation. Kids and all. ” Anne-Marie looked up. “You’re working too. ” “I’ll interview him, make a few pictures .
Above them, Dikti’s limestone cliffs were golden in the evening light. “Sophia! ” a male voice roared, echoing from the cliffs. “Come here! ” “Yip! ” she cried, urging the panicked sheep upward. But the dog stopped and nervously cocked an ear to the man down the mountain. Nikos Androulakis, Sophia’s father, had once been as adept at chasing sheep and goats over the crags as she was, and he was not kind to dogs. When her father started up the slope, Sophia turned to watch, planting her shoes wide in the dirt and squatting on a boulder.
Sophia guessed that he’d been sitting in front of Louloudakis’s place all afternoon, drinking the raki he distilled himself, while the other village men sipped boiled coffee. At last he staggered and glared up at her, still a hundred yards down the slope but close enough for her to see the sweat shin-ing on his forehead, and his heaving chest. ” he cried. ” At thirteen, Sophia was vague about his meaning, but when-ever Papa Kriaris, the village priest, sang those verses of Revelations about the Whore of Babylon in church, he wore an expression of disgust on his bearded face, so it was probably worse than an ordinary insult.
Secret Passages by Paul Preuss