“Who said anything about slicing you up? ... I just wanted to carve a little Z on your forehead-- nothing serious.”

“He bent down, pressing his head against her forehead. “Seriously though, I want this – I want you … More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

“Carter, not to be unkind," I said, "but the last few months you've been seeing messages about Zia everywhere. Two weeks ago, you thought she was sending you a distress call in your mashed potatoes.""It was a Z! Carved right in the potatoes!”

“I am a rapist and a sadistic pig,' if you get that tattoo removed I will carve it into your forehead, do you understand?”

“Tell me where you want it,” I said. Minias drew back, his purple robes shifting about his ankles. “You’re asking me?” “Well, unless you want a big R on your forehead.”

“No sex?" He looked at me in disbelief. "Well if you can't have ze sex, what can you do?"For the sake of simplicity I took my left arm and lined it up just under my collarbones. "Nothing below here," I said. I took my right arm and lined it up to my knees. "Nothing above here.""What about your armpit?" he asked. "Can your boyfriend do anything he wants to your armpit?"I thought about it. Armpits seemed pretty harmless. "Yeah," I said optimistically. "My boyfriend can do anything he wants to my armpit.""This is good," the Frenchman said. "He can stick his penis in and out of your armpit, and if you grow hair there it is almost like vagine."Is it too late to change my answer? I wondered, pulling a cardigan over my bare shoulders and covering any hint of an invitation.”