I spit on your graves by 1920-1959 Boris Vian

that statement to hold her even a bit tighter than before. At the same time, I tried to caress her breast. I had beat the gun the gun again. She broke out of my clasp slowly but firmly.
    "You know, the other day, I had been
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    drinking," she stated.
    "I don't believe it," I replied.
    "Oh, - do you really think I would have let you do that if I hadn't been drinking?"
    "Of course."
    She lowered her head again, and then lifted it to say to me.
    "You don't think I would have danced with just anybody?"
    "I'm just anybody."
    "You know very well you aren't."
    I don't think I'd ever had such an up and down conversation. She slipped out of your fingers like an eel. For a moment you thought she'd go all the way, and then she'd suddenly back up at the least touch. I didn't give up though.
    "What's so special about me?"
    "1 don't know. You're alright physically, but it isn't that. Your voice, maybe."
    "Maybe what?"
    "It isn't just an ordinary voice."
    I again laughed heartily.
    "No, she insisted, "It's a deeper voice, and more... I don't know just how to describe it... more serene, steady."
    "That comes from singing and playing the guitar."
    "No," she said, "I've never heard singers
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    or guitarists with a voice like yours. I have heard a voice that yours reminds me of, yes, it was back in Haiti. Some black men."
    "Well, that's really a compliment." I said. "They're just about the best musicians you can find."
    "Oh don't talk nonsense."
    "It's not nonsense. They're the source of all American music," I said.
    "I don't think so. All the big dance orchestras are whites."
    "Of course-the whites are in a better position to exploit the Negro's inventions."
    "I just don't think you're right."
    "All the great popular composers are colored. Like Duke Ellington, for example."
    "What about Gershwin, Kern, and all ^ of those."
    "They're all immigrants from Europe," I said: "They're the ones best able to envelop it. But I don't think you'd find a single original passage anywhere in Gershwin's work- one that hasn't been copied or plagiarized. Just try and find one in the Rhapsody in Blue, for example."
    "You're funny,' she said. "I just hate the colored race."
    That was just too wonderful. I thought of Tom, and I was almost ready to thank the
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    Lord. But I was too hot after that girl to be able to get mad at that moment. And I didn't need the Lord's help to do a good job.
    "You're just like everybody else," I said. "You like to brag about things that everybody else but you discovered."
    "I don't see just what you mean.'
    "You ought to travel," I said. "You know, it wasn't just the white Americans all by themselves who invented the movies, the automobile, or nylon stockings, or horse-racing. Or jazz."
    "Let's talk about something else," Lou said. "You read too much, I guess."
    They were still at their bridge game on the table to a side, and I saw that I wouldn't get anywhere unless I made her drink something. I couldn't give up that easy.
    "Dex told me about your rum," I went on. "Is it a myth, or can ordinary mortals have some?"
    "Of course you can have some," Lou said. "I should have realized you'd be thirsty."
    I let her go and she went off towards a sort of salon bar.
    "Mix 'em?" she inquired. "White and caramel?"
    "O.K., mix' em. Perhaps you could add some orange juice. I'm dying of thirst."
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    "Easy as pie," she said.
    The bridge-players at the other end of the room cried out to us loudly.
    "Hey, Lou! Make some for everybody."
    "Alright," she said, "but you'll have to come and get it."
    I just loved to watch her bend forward. She was wearing a sort of tight sweater which opened roundly in front, exposing part of her breasts, and her hair was now thrown to one side, as on the day I'd first seen her, but rather to the left. She had much less make-up on, and looked good enough to eat.
    "You're a very beautiful girl," I said.
    She straightened up, holding a