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You ask THEM if I'm taking advantage of them. I'M not the one who ordered five 18-year-olds to stay here for all of Spring Break just in case a strange guy wanted to seize and inseminate them. Those girls downstairs stood by and let YOU give that order because they KNEW ... they KNEW ... that I would never hurt any of them. Nobody is being coerced into being here. NOBODY is being forced to do anything they're not comfortable with. Don't you ever ... EVER ... insinuate that I am ANYTHING like Henry Rutledge, do you understand?!?"Her eyes wide with fright at my tone and demeanor, Peyton nodded hurriedly.Only now did I recognize that despite my insistence of not being a monster, I was still scaring her. I backed up quickly and shook my head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten up in your face," I apologized with a wince.Peyton pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest again, more or less hugging herself. She didn't look me in the eyes, but she nodded and replied, "It's okay.". Now how was she going to fix this mess? An hour later, Robby was lying on his bed, reading a brochure from the New Orleans Museum of Art, and contemplating a visit to the new Besthoff Sculpture Garden when the phone rang. He was alone in the room so he answered it. It was Laura. ‘Robby,’ she said in a small voice, ‘please come see me.’ Robby took the elevator up to her floor and knocked on the door. He had the key she had given him but formality seemed the way to go after her earlier little outburst. Laura opened the door looking contrite and beautiful. She tugged him inside, kicked the door shut, and wrapped her arms around him. Smothering his face with kisses, she apologized profusely for her earlier actions. She let him go finally and led him into the living room of her suite. A solitary chair was sitting in the middle of the floor. Laura was wearing a diaphanous floor length black gown that set off her porcelain skin and pale blond hair. Her hair was thick and casually.
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