"Richard Morgan - Market Forces" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morgan Richard)

darkened room ...

Reality settled over him like a fresh sheet. He was home.

He heaved a shuddering sigh and groped for the glass of water beside the bed. In the dream heтАЩd been
falling to, and then through, the tiles of the supermarket floor.

On the other side of the bed Carla stirred and laid a hand on him.

тАШChris?тАЩ

тАЬsokay. Dream.тАЩ He gulped from the glass. тАШBad dream, sтАЩall.тАЩ

тАШMurcheson again?тАЩ

He paused, peculiarly unwilling to correct her assumption. He didnтАЩt dream about MurchesonтАЩs
screaming death much any more. He shivered a little. Carla sighed and pulled herself closer to him. She
took his hand and pressed it onto one full breast.

тАШMy father would just love this. Deep stirrings of conscience. HeтАЩs always said you havenтАЩt got one.тАЩ

тАШRight.тАЩ Chris lifted the alarm clock and focused on it. Three-twenty. Just perfect. He knew he wouldnтАЩt
get back to sleep for a while. Just fucking perfect. He flopped back, immobile. тАШYour father has
convenient amnesia when it comes to clearing the rent.тАЩ

тАШMoney talks. WhyтАЩd you think I married you?тАЩ

He rolled his head and butted her gently on the nose. тАШAre you taking the piss out of me?тАЩ

For answer she reached down for his prick and rolled it through her fingers.

тАШNo. IтАЩm winding you up,тАЩ she whispered.

As they drew together he felt the hot gust of desire for her blowing out the dream, but he was slow to
harden under her hand. It was only in the final throes of climax that he finally let go.

Falling.
 It was raining when the alarm sounded. Soft hiss outside the open window like an untuned TV at very
low volume. He snapped off the bleeper, lay listening to the rain for a few moments and then slid out of
the bed without waking Carla.

In the kitchen he set up the coffee machine, ducked into the shower and got out in time to steam milk for
CarlaтАЩs cappuccino. He delivered it to her bedside, kissed her awake and pointed it out. SheтАЩd probably
drift off to sleep again and drink it cold when she finally got up. He lifted clothes from the wardrobe -
plain white shirt, one of the dark Italian suits, the Argentine leather shoes. He took them downstairs.

Dressed but untied, he carried his own double espresso into the living room with a slice of toast to watch
the seven oтАЩclock bulletins. There was, as usual, a lot of detailed foreign commentary and it was time to
go before the Promotions & Appointments spot rolled around. He shrugged, killed the TV and only
remembered to knot his tie when he caught himself in the hall mirror. Carla was just making waking