She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. The pleasure intensified quickly, it was as much control as she dared to lose as she heard herself calling his name with all her breath. She hoped to turn him off with the mention of Study Halls and detentions, as there were no such animals in 204 Martin’s world of high pressure academics. Diane seemed more interested in the prestige of her violin skills than in the more sordid subject of her vampirism.
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