“Why did you barge into my privacy unannounced?” Elvis flamed. His face was squeezed, wrapped in guilt.

He knew he was caught red-handed, and denial would only make things worse.

“You are still prevaricating on my question. Be specific. I need an honest answer from you. What is that hàrlót doing on my bed?” Linda asked. Still imagining if what is unfolding before her presence is real or a cruel joke!

“Don't address her that way; she is not a hàrlót!” Elvis muttered ...