Drought by Graham Masterton

that already.’
    He tugged aside the thin white elastic of her thong and slid inside her, right up to the open zipper of his pants.
    â€˜I hate you, Halford,’ she said, breathlessly, as he pushed himself into her again and again, more and more forcefully each time.
    â€˜That,’ he gasped, ‘that – is –
beside
– the – fucking – point.’
    He rammed himself into her harder and harder, and started to grunt with every thrust. He was keeping Saskia’s head pressed against the tabletop, which hurt. His penis was so big and hard she felt as if she were being forced wide open, and that he was burying himself inside her so deeply that its tip was almost nudging her heart.
    Somebody rattled the door-handle, trying to get into the conference room. After a few rattles they knocked, and called out, ‘Anybody in there?’
    This doesn’t deter Halford at all. He kept ramming and ramming and at last he suddenly said, ‘Kiiiii-
mota
!’ He took himself out of her and ejaculated all over the cheeks of her bottom and her dress.
    She stayed bent over the table with her face against it for almost half a minute, despite the fact that Halford was no longer holding her down. Eventually she stood up straight, and adjusted her thong, and straightened her dress. Halford had already zippered himself up and was combing his hair.
    â€˜OK,’ he said. ‘We have my local TV broadcast this evening. That’s at seven, isn’t it?’ He was breathing loudly through his nose, and there was perspiration on his upper lip, but apart from that he showed no indication that he had just been forcibly having sex with her.
    Saskia didn’t answer. Her teeth were clenched tightly together and she couldn’t bring herself to open them.
    â€˜Who’s next on
your
agenda?’ he asked her.
    He was just about to repeat the question when she said, ‘Which son-of-a-bitch am I going to allow to rape me next? Is that what you mean?’
    He smiled and tilted his head to one side and tried to lay a consoling hand on her shoulder but she jerked away from him.
    â€˜Come on, Saskia, you know what I mean. Which city department are you going to work your magic on next? You must have almost wrapped everything up here in San Bernardino, haven’t you? When do you move on to Palm Springs?’
    â€˜Open the door,’ she told him.
    â€˜Saskia … sweet cheeks.’
    â€˜Open the fucking door, Halford.’
    â€˜I just need to keep abreast of your progress, Saskia. That’s all.’
    â€˜I’ll text you,’ she said.
    He unlocked the door and opened it and she walked straight out without saying anything else to him. She left the golf club building and crossed the hot, glaring parking lot until she reached the silver Traverse that she had rented for her stay in San Bernardino. She climbed into the driver’s seat and switched on the engine to start the air conditioning, but she didn’t immediately drive away. She sat clutching the steering wheel, her mouth puckered, doing everything she could to stop herself from crying, while the wetness between her legs grew colder and colder.

SEVEN
    W hen Martin arrived at San Bernardino police headquarters on North D Street, he found that the steps that led up to the front doors were crowded with hot and angry people, and that police officers were standing outside, preventing anybody from going inside.
    â€˜What do we want?’ the crowd was chanting. ‘Water!’
    Martin managed to force his way up through the struggling throng until he reached the front doors. A young police officer with fiery red cheeks held up his hand and said, ‘Headquarters is closed right now, sir. We’re asking everybody please to leave peacefully. There’s nothing the police department can do about the water supply.’
    â€˜I haven’t come here about the water supply. My son’s been arrested and