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The Uninvited

The Uninvited

The Uninvited

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phone.‘No. Don’t,’ I say.‘Why?’ says Ashok.‘It might cloud my judgement.’‘You’re not thinking straight.’ He leanscloser to the screen, but I can’t make outhis expression. ‘And you could do with ashave. You’ve missed some on your neck.You need to keep it together, bud. A lot’sriding on this. Hey, Steph.’ He turns as sheenters. ‘Come join us.’If he had any idea what Stephanie hasbeen to me, and perhaps still is, he wouldnot be doing this.I’m aware of the pale hair, the stark,unadorned face, the white neck, the eyesdemanding contact. <strong>The</strong> small, meanbreasts I have often fantasised about,against my will, and which, in

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