Somebody scratches their head thoroughly.
I could hear the hair bristling, skipping, dragging, tangling, the nails
picking up dandruff.
Easy to smell the sound. Of oil, soap, and dead skin. Of sweat.
It was hard to believe the woman with smooth skin and taut muscles would
do that.
That the lithe arm and slender body was capable of that horror.
A perverse sound from an attractive woman. Difficult to put the sound
and the person together.
Like the place was defiled, like it was irreversible.
Then I realized it was not her but the man in his forties.
It is much easier to imagine him scratching an itch.
Reality prevails.\