She remembered the angle of the doorway to the kitchen and standing next to the sofa that her mother had been asleep on less than an hour ago. Susan c...uld see only their heads as they lay on the faded, dirty linoleum, his face obliterating hers, his teeth clenched, his eyes closed, one of his hands holding both of hers above her head. He was moving on top of her, making small noises, but her mother was silent beneath him. Susan was afraid to stay, afraid of being caught there seeing something. " She turned a dial surreptitiously. Suddenly Rosa's eyes went wide. She remembered Mama Santiago's whorehouse, which she -- he -- had patronized with his old drinking companion, Pedro Velasco -- except that now she hadn't been a client, but one of the girls spreading her legs for Pedro, just another john smelling of beer and sweat. Yes, she'd been a whore. Her memory was distressingly vivid. And now she felt desire. More than desire: lust. She wanted a man, needed a man. The compulsion. More

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