THE SECOND TIME she was twenty minutes late, hurried into the office muttering what might have been an apology.
Same getup, different color scheme: black tank top, sunburn pink shorts, lips coarsened by bright red paste.
Same precarious1 sandals and cheap little purse. She reeked2 of tobacco and a rose-heavy perfume. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was mussed.
She took a long time settling in the chair, finally said, "Got hung up."
"You and your friends?"
"Hung up where?"
"Santa Monica?" I said.
"We like the beach." She massaged5 one bare, bronze shoulder.
"Nice sunny day," I said, smiling. "Classes must have let out early."
Sudden, bright laughter tumbled from between the crimson6 lips. "Right."
"School's a drag, huh?"
"School would have to be on uppers to be a drag." She produced the cigarette pack, bounced it on a shiny knee. "When I was little they tested my IQ. I'm supposed to be supersmart. They say I should be studying more, say I'm smart enough to know it's a waste of time."
"No interest in any subject?" I said.
"Nutrition—love that garlic bread. Is today when we talk about sex?"
That caught me off guard. "I don't recall our scheduling that."
"They scheduled it. I've been instructed to talk to you about it."
"By your parents?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"It's mostly Lyle's idea. He's positive I'm doing the dirty, gonna get pregnant, stick him with a 'little nigger grandkid.' Like if I was, talking to you about it would help. Like just because I don't talk to them, I'm going to throw up my insides to some outsider."
"Sometimes talking to an outsider can be safer."
"Maybe for some people," she said. "But explain me this: When you're young everyone's always knocking into your head never talk to strangers, beware of strangers, watch out for strangers. So now they're paying for me to tell my secrets to a stranger?"
She ran a fingernail under the seal of the pack, slit8 it open, played with the foil flap. "What bullshit."
"Maybe they're hoping eventually you won't consider me a stranger."
"They can hope all they want." Low, tight laugh. "Hey, I'm not trying to be rude, it's just coming out that way— Sorry, you seem like a nice guy. It's just that I shouldn't have to be here, okay} Face it: They're just using you to punish me—like grounding me or threatening not to let me get my license9 next year. None of that worked, and this won't either. You have to care to be controlled, and I don't do caring."
"What are they punishing you for, Lauren?"
"They say it's my attitude," she said, "but you know what I think? I think they're jealous."
"Of what?"
"My happiness."
"You're happy and they're not."
"They're making themselves out to be all ... in control. Especially him" She lowered her voice to a hostile baritone parody10: "'Lauren, you're screwing up your life. This therapy crap is goddamn expensive. I want you to go in there and spill your guts11."
Last week she'd talked about spitting out secrets. The emetic12 approach to insight."So," I said, "your parents aren't happy, they're taking it out on you, and I'm the weapon."
"They're stuck where they are and I'm cool, free, enjoying my life, and that bugs13 them. Soon as I get my own money, I'm out of there, bye-bye, Lyle and Jane."
"Do you have a plan to get money?"
She shrugged14. "I'll figure something out—I'm not talking right now. I'm not impractical15, I know even McDonald's won't hire me without their permission. But someday."
"Did you try to work at McDonald's?"
Nod. "I wanted my own money. But they said no. 'No outside work until your grades come up.' Which they won't, so forget that."
"Why won't your grades come up?" I said.
"'Cause I don't want them to."
"So it's a few more years of this."
Her eyes shifted. "I'll figure something out— Listen, forget sex. I don't want to talk to you about it. Or anything else. No offense16, but I just don't want to spill my guts."
"Okay."
"Okay, great." She shot to her feet. "See you next week."
Ten minutes to go. I said, "No way you can stick it out?"
"Are you going to tell them I split early?"
"No, but—"
"Thanks," she said. "No, I really can't stick it out, this is hurting my head— Tell you what, next week I'll come on time and stay the whole time, okay? Promise."
"It's only ten minutes."
"Ten minutes too long."
"Give it a chance, Lauren. We don't have to talk about your problems."
"What, then?"
"Tell me about your interests."
"I'm interested in the beach," she said. "Okay? I'm interested in freedom—which is exactly what I need right now. Next week I'll be good—I mean it."
Next week. Conning17 me or did she really intend to return?
"I've gotta get out of here."
"Sure," I said. "Take care."
Big smile. Hair flip. "You're a doll." Swinging the purse like a slingshot, she hurried out. I caught up with her in the waiting room, just as she whipped out her lighter18.
Jamming the cigarette in her mouth, she shoved at the door. I watched her trot19 down the hall, a girl in a hurry, haloed by a cloud of smoke.
I thought about her a few times—the image of self-destructive escape. Then that faded too.
Six years later I was invited to a bachelor party the weekend before Halloween.
A forty-five-year-old radiation oncologist at Western Pediatrics was getting married to an O.K. nurse, and a consortium of hospital physicians and administrators20 had rented the presidential suite21 of the Beverly Monarch22 Hotel for the send-off.
Steaks, ribs23, buffalo24 wings, assorted25 fried and grilled26 stuff on the buffet27. Iced tubs of beer, serve-yourself bar, Cuban cigars, gooey desserts. My contact with the honoree—a mumbling28 loner lacking in social skills— had been a few stiff, unproductive discussions about patient care, and I wondered why I'd been included in the festivities. Perhaps every face helped.
There was no shortage effaces30 when I arrived late. The suite was vast, a string of mood-lit, black-carpeted rooms packed with sweaty men. Penthouse level—no doubt a great view—but the drapes were drawn31 and the air felt heavy. Suit jackets and neckties were heaped on a sofa near the door under a hand-lettered sign that said, GET CASUAL! I made my way through testosterone guffaws32, random33 backslapping, blue cigar fog, the strained glee of boozy toasts.
A crowd swarmed34 the food. I finally got close enough to redeem35 a skewer36 of teriyaki beef and a Grolsch. Belched37 cheers and scattered38 applause from the next room drew me to a larger throng39. I drifted over, found scores of eyes trained forward on the hundred-inch projection40 TV the hotel provided for presidents.
Skin flicks41 flashing larger than life. Bodies squishing and squirming and slapping in time to an asthmatic sax score. The men around me gaped42 and pretended to be casual. I wandered away, got more food, stood to the side, chewing and wondering what the hell I was doing there, why I just didn't wipe my mouth and leave.
A pathologist I knew sauntered by with a whiskey in his hand.
"Hey," he said, eyeing the screen. "Aren't you the guy who's supposed to explain why we do this?"
"You've obviously mistaken me for an anthropologist43."
He chuckled44. "More like paleontologist. I'll bet cavemen painted dirty pictures. How about we videotape this and show it at Grand Rounds?"
"Better yet," I said, "at the next gala fund-raiser."
"Right. Ten-inch cocks and wet pussies—better have oxygen ready for Mrs. Prince and all the other biddies."
A roar from the wide-screen crowd made both our heads swivel. Then a sharp peal—flatware on glass, shouts for quiet, and the vocal45 buzz faded out, isolating46 the thump-thump of the porn soundtrack. Moans continued to thunder in stereo. A woman's voice urged, "Fuck it—-fuck me," and nervous laughter rose from the audience. Then a tight, abrasive47 silence.
A thickset, ruddy man holding a nearly full beer mug—a financial officer named Beckwith—stepped into the space between the two front rooms. His eyeglasses had slid down his meaty nose, and when he righted them beer splashed and foamed48 on the carpet.
"Go, Jim!" someone shouted.
"Get a neuro workup, Jim!"
"That's why pencil pushers can't be surgeons!"
Beckwith staggered a bit and grinned. "Here, here, gentlemen—and I do use the term loosely— Look at what we've wrought—is this a goddamn blast or what?"
Cheers, hoots49, nudges, bottoms up.
"You're sure blasted, Jim!"
Beckwith rubbed his eyes and his nose, gave a one-armed salute50, splashed more beer. "Since all of us are such serious, no-nonsense citizens—since we'd never dream of abandoning God and spouses51 and country and moral obligation except for the direst emergency"— raucous52 laughter—"thank God we've got ourselves one hell of an emergency, brethren! Namely the impending53 sentencing—uh, matrimony of our esteemed—steamed- up—buddy, the eternal, infernal, nocturnal Dr. Phil Harnsberger, wielder54 of the radioactive cancer-killer beam, better known to all of us as El Terminator, aka He Who Lurks55 Behind the Lead Door- Come on out, Phil—where are you, boy?"
Beckwith cupped his hands into a megaphone. "Paging Dr. Deathray! Dr. Deathray to center stage, stat. Come on, Phil, show yourself, boy!"
Chants of "Phil, Phil, Phil, Phil. . ."
Then: "Here he is!"
Thunderous ovation57 as the crowd rippled58 and Phil Harnsberger, clutching a martini glass, was expelled from its midst and shoved next to Beckwith.
Balding and normally pallid59, with a pink-red mustache demeaning his upper lip, the radiotherapist was flushed incandescent60. His smile was a paranoid smear61, and he seemed on the verge62 of tipping over. He had on a black T-shirt so grossly oversized that it skirted past the knees of his slacks. A yellow cartoon silk-screened across the front portrayed63 a hefty, leering bride gripping a leash64 that tethered a pint-sized groom prostrate65 before a hanging judge and looming66 scaffold. A bold legend protested: I Dint67 Kill No One, Yer Honor, So Why the Life Sentence?
Beckwith slapped Harnsberger on the back. Harnsberger flinched68 and tried to down some martini. Most of the liquid ended up on his chin, and he wiped himself with his sleeve.
"Sterile69 procedure!" someone shouted. "Call the fucking JCAH!"
"Fucking germ culture—stat!"
Beckwith slapped Harnsberger again. Harnsberger labored70 at smiling.
"Hey, Phil, hey, old guy—and I do mean old—speaking of which, it's about time you lost your cherry!" Stooping, Beckwith pretended to search for something on the floor, examined Harnsberger's cuffs71, finally straightened and picked the olive out of Harnsberger's martini. "Ah, here it is! Turned green from disuse!"
Whoops73 from the crowd. Harnsberger smiled but hung his head.
"Phil," said Beckwith, "you may be pathetic, but know we love you, big guy."
Silence.
"Terminador?" said Beckwith. "Do you know it?"
Harnsberger muttered, "Sure, Jim—"
"You know what?" said Beckwith.
"You love me."
Beckwith backed away. "Not so fast, Lone29 Ranger7!" To the crowd: "Don't ask, don't tell is okay for those fruits in the Navy, but maybe someone should inform the bride!"
Harnsberger flushed. Wild laughter. Beckwith closed back in on his target, going nose to nose. "Seriously, Phil, you're sure you're having a good time?"
"Oh, yes, absolutely—"
Beckwith reached around and delivered yet another backslap, hard enough to cause Harnsberger to drop the martini glass. Beckwith crushed the glass underfoot, ground the shards74 into the carpet. "Like the Jews say, moozel tav—happy batch-day, Phil. Sure hope you're enjoying your last meal—er, last rites75. Grub to your satisfaction?"
Harnsberger nodded.
"Get enough to drink?"
"Yes—"
"'Cause none of us want you pissed off and beaming that death ray of yours down at us, Philly."
Shouts of agreement. Harnsberger simpered.
Beckwith said, "That's also why none of us want to be around when you get the bill!"
Momentary76 panic in Harnsberger's eyes. Beckwith slapped him again. "Scared you there, huh, boy? Nah, don't get your co-jone-jones in an uproar77, it's all taken care of—lifted it out of patient funds." Beckwith rubbed an index finger against a thumb and winked78. "Sorry. No kidney transplants for Medi-Cal patients this month!"
Beckwith took hold of Harnsberger's arm. "And now, for the piece de resistance, Phil. Pieces. So to speak— Sure you've eaten enough?"
"I'm sure, Jim."
"Well . . ." Beckwith grinned. "Maybe not." He flourished an arm. Nothing happened for a moment; then the lights dimmed and music surged from behind the giant TV. Warp-speed disco beat, louder than the porn score.
The crowd parted, and two women in long black trench80 coats pranced81 into the clearing. As Beckwith slipped from view they positioned themselves on either side of Harnsberger.
Young women—tall, shapely, coltish82, stepping high on spiked83 heels. Wide-smiling—tossing the smiles as if dispensing84 candy—they rotated their hips85, thrust their pelvises, made the exaggerated moves of trained dancers. Long mass of coal black hair on one girl. Her partner's coif was white-blond, boy-short, gel-spiked.
Synchronized86 butt87 shakes as they flanked Harnsberger, rubbed his neck, kissed his cheek, bumped his hips. A pair of tongues flicked88 the radiotherapist's ears, now crimson. His face was polluted with arousal and fear.
The girls stomped89 and shouted, stroked their crotches, pretended to go for Harnsberger's fly, threw back their heads and pantomimed open-mouthed laughter, began shoving him gently between them—back and forth90, the way baby jackals play with a rabbit.
The music took on even more speed. Off came the trench coats; the girls wore identical black leather bustiers, black thongs91, garter belts, and fishnet stockings.
Several beats of bump and grind. I stared along with everyone else, caught a side view of busty profiles, heard the girls whoop72 and laugh as they continued to tease Harnsberger. The black-haired girl tickled92 his chin, veneered herself against him, ran her hands over his head, messed his hair. The blonde took hold of his face, kissed him long and hard on the mouth as he tried to wriggle93 away, hands flying wildly. Suddenly he succumbed94 to the kiss, getting into it. He was reaching for the blonde's rear when she shoved him away, did an athletic95 squat96, danced back up to him, shook her head from side to side, peeled back a bustier cup and flashed a nipple, let the leather flip back up.
The black-haired girl joined her for more crotch rubbing and prancing97. Both bras teased down on cue, now shed and tossed to the crowd.
Full, young breasts bobbled and rotated. The girls pinched their nipples hard, bent98 low, dropped to perfect splits, bounced up, danced wildly, played with their G-strings.
Pointing at Harnsberger and moving in on him, but this time they guided him offstage and returned, just the two of them, holding hands. The G-strings popped, snapped back on firm, flat pubises.
A bit more genital hide-and-seek, then the black-haired girl got down on all fours, rotated her buttocks, pulled at the blonde's ankle. The blonde stood there, shaking her head no, pouting99, feigning100 resistance. Hoarse101 screams of encouragement from the choir102. Everyone paying attention. In a flash both girls were naked but for garter belts and fishnets. The music slowed to languid sludge in a too-sweet key, and they began caressing103 each other, vamping, stroking, kissing, tongues lizarding.
The black-haired girl sank to the carpet, lay on her back, arched her pelvis. The blonde shimmied between her partner's legs, lowered to her knees, bowed her head prayerfully, grazed the dark girl's abdomen104 with platinum105 spikes106.
Tonguing the dark girl's navel. The dark girl writhed107.
The blond girl looked up, placed a finger on her lip, as if contemplating108 what to do next. A big-eyed travesty109 of innocence110, holding out her hands as if seeking counsel from the crowd.
The crowd cheered her on.
She tilted111 her head back to the dark girl's crotch, began to dip again, raised her face. Kneeling in place but not moving as the dark-haired girl, still bucking112, took hold of her arm and urged her down.
The blond girl studied the audience. Took in the entire room.
Turning my way, giving me a full view of her face.
Long, oval face beneath the silvery spikes. Pale eyes under plucked brows, dominant113 but perfectly114 proportioned cleft115 chin.
Recognition was a splinter in my chest.
Hers too. The slyness dropped off her face, replaced by ... a queasy116 smile.
She stared at me, and her head froze above the black-haired girl's writhing117 hips. I thought I saw her give the faintest headshake—denying something?
The music oozed118 on. The black-haired girl kept gyrating, started to realize something was off. Made a grab for Lauren's head.
Then she did.
As she allowed herself to be dragged down, I escaped.
收听单词发音 |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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reeked
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的过去式和过去分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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flip
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| vt.快速翻动；轻抛；轻拍；n.轻抛；adj.轻浮的 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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massaged
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| 按摩，推拿( massage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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ranger
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| n.国家公园管理员，护林员；骑兵巡逻队员 | |
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slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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emetic
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| n.催吐剂；adj.催吐的 | |
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bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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impractical
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| adj.不现实的，不实用的，不切实际的 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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conning
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| v.诈骗，哄骗( con的现在分词 )；指挥操舵( conn的现在分词 ) | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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administrators
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| n.管理者( administrator的名词复数 )；有管理（或行政）才能的人；（由遗嘱检验法庭指定的）遗产管理人；奉派暂管主教教区的牧师 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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grilled
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| adj. 烤的, 炙过的, 有格子的 动词grill的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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effaces
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| v.擦掉( efface的第三人称单数 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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guffaws
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| n.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的名词复数 )v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的第三人称单数 ) | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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skewer
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| n.（烤肉用的）串肉杆；v.用杆串好 | |
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belched
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| v.打嗝( belch的过去式和过去分词 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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41
flicks
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的第三人称单数 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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42
gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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43
anthropologist
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| n.人类学家，人类学者 | |
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44
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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46
isolating
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| adj.孤立的，绝缘的v.使隔离( isolate的现在分词 )；将…剔出（以便看清和单独处理）；使（某物质、细胞等）分离；使离析 | |
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47
abrasive
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| adj.使表面磨损的；粗糙的；恼人的 | |
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48
foamed
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| 泡沫的 | |
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49
hoots
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| 咄，啐 | |
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50
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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51
spouses
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| n.配偶，夫或妻( spouse的名词复数 ) | |
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52
raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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53
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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54
wielder
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| 行使者 | |
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55
lurks
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| n.潜在，潜伏；（lurk的复数形式）vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的第三人称单数形式） | |
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56
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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57
ovation
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| n.欢呼，热烈欢迎，热烈鼓掌 | |
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58
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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59
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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60
incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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61
smear
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| v.涂抹；诽谤，玷污；n.污点；诽谤，污蔑 | |
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62
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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63
portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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64
leash
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| n.牵狗的皮带，束缚；v.用皮带系住 | |
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65
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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66
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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67
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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68
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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70
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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71
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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72
whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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73
whoops
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| int.呼喊声 | |
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74
shards
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| n.（玻璃、金属或其他硬物的）尖利的碎片( shard的名词复数 ) | |
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75
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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76
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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77
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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78
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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79
peals
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| n.（声音大而持续或重复的）洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 )；隆隆声；洪亮的钟声；钟乐v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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80
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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81
pranced
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
coltish
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| adj.似小马的；不受拘束的；活泼的 | |
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83
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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84
dispensing
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| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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85
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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86
synchronized
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| 同步的 | |
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87
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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88
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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89
stomped
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| v.跺脚，践踏，重踏( stomp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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91
thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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92
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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93
wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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94
succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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95
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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96
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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97
prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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98
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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99
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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100
feigning
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| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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101
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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102
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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103
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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104
abdomen
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| n.腹，下腹(胸部到腿部的部分) | |
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105
platinum
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| n.白金 | |
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106
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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107
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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109
travesty
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| n.歪曲，嘲弄，滑稽化 | |
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110
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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111
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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112
bucking
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| v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的现在分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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113
dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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114
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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115
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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116
queasy
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| adj.易呕的 | |
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117
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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118
oozed
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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119
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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