Matadors only were included in Portuguese bullfights a couple of times a month, and there were several matadors performing in the country, most of the... brought here from Spain where the work was more steady. On a night after a bull fight in the Camp Pequeno stadium, a matador usually went out on the town, taken out to carouse all night by his fans. Coelho had plenty of fans in Lisbon. But he attended the supper hosted by Nuncio.I heard them arguing in the foyer when Coelho arrived, but I didn’t. She said and stood up, walking over to the grand piano. I could play something- No. He said and when she turned to look at him, he shook his head curtly. She looked back to the piano, quickly thinking through what else he could want, what else would get her out of this mess. Money. She said and looked him directly in the eyes. I only have a couple dollars on me, but we could go down to an ATM- I dont need your money. He said acidly and she felt the tears sting the backs of her eyes. She blinked. “I’m going to fuck her.”Magic made the paper stronger than the hero could break in her compromised position. Brex was stronger still. It made a rich, tearing sound as Brex unwrapped his present. Her ripe breasts came free, brown nipples pointing to the ceiling. The skin below her neck was much lighter than the tan on her face, showing how modestly she liked to dress when she was under the sun. She thrashed, as if trying to twist far enough to hide herself against the floor. It was already. Lets call myself ‘S’ and my roommate ‘K’.Since it was just a couple of months into the college, there was a pretty good ragging thing going on, which was more of mental harrasment to us, and also the course itself, and the long hours of classes left us drained at the end of the day. I had already tucked myself in my quilt, getting ready to drown myself into sleep, just when K said, “Do you mind if I sleep in your bed tonight? As mine’s all dirty and I don’t have energy to clean it up.” I didn’t.