The Fifteenth Representative by Hilla Dagan (fiction novels to read .TXT) 📕

was a lesbian and the son was still too overwhelmed by me to function properly. I’m pulling my readers’ legs, am I?

I remember Timothy being completely blown away by the intelligence that particular operation delivered. And at how fast I managed it. I believe I even received an award that year for it. I swear. The award is in a box somewhere in storage—it’s sitting there with all the numbers I got way back then when I went to Sinai. I never throw things away, you know that. Though, I’m not truly sure why.

I went downstairs to buy some cigarettes. I hadn’t smoked in what felt like a century. I was also hungry. What is up with Eran? It’s been hours.

Twenty minutes later—approximately—and there were two sharp knocks at the door. It was Eran. Whenever someone would knock like that, I’d always remember him. It was our permanent signal. If the knock pattern was different, it meant preparing myself for something else. Something not so pleasant.

“It’s been hours.”

“Yeah… we needed to go through a whole bunch of details. She’s okay, actually. Knows her shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I see you’re not so sure I’ll be successful.” I pinned him with one of my looks.

“What’s one thing got to do with the other? Come to me.”

He lifted me quite suddenly off the couch I was lying on, almost yanking my arm out of its socket. He hadn’t even let go of that one arm and his other hand grabbed my cheek. My ass cheek. Listen to this. If you know what I mean.

“You’re so tall. I love that you’re so tall.” He pressed his lips to mine while holding the back of my neck to pull me even closer.

“No—you’re just really short.” I barely managed to get the words out around our kiss.

“You drive me crazy.”

“I love driving you crazy.”

“You make lose my mind, Noa.”

“I also love making you lose your mind. And doing other things to you, too.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” he asked and gave me that look of his.

“Punishments, for example. I love punishing you.”

“Punishments? What are you on about, Noa?”

“Punishments that make us both crazy,” I said and pushed him backward so he landed on the bed. He either fell or allowed himself to lie back. I’m strong. Don’t look at me like that. And that’s not counting all the Krav Maga classes I took. And kickboxing lessons.

I opened his belt. I let my hair fall forward and trail down his chest, all the way to his midsection. I’m pretty sure he was transported to a parallel universe. It certainly seemed so. And sounded so.

I was exactly his taste—I’ve known that since forever. He told me that after the first time we slept together—and after I had naturally made the hastiest of getaways because I liked him so much—that he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, mumbling to himself in utter shock for minutes on end: what was that, what was that, what was that…

It was me, honey, now focus on me, baby. On me, please. Just the way I like it. And appreciate this moment, because about forty-nine percent of life on earth would take your place if they could.

He reached out to touch one of my butt-cheeks. He’s always been particularly fond of them. He once told me that if he had to draw the woman of his dreams—he’d draw me. He hit the jackpot because it’s not only my looks that tick all his boxes. I’m rugged with silk-like skin. Spicy, tumorous—as they say, hellraising—as they say. I also get things done—again, as they say. And a hot piece of ass—as they say. And believe me. They do say. Nonstop.

“Oh—uh….” Someone was hot for me.

“Such cottage cheese,” I giggled. He sighed.

“What are you sighing about like an old hag?”

“A good sigh solves half the problems a half sigh causes,” he said as he threw a towel at me.

“Is that Polish?”

“No, I came up with it on my own.”

“I’m starving, let’s go eat.”

“I’m hungry, too. Let’s.”

“Do you know a good vegan place?”

“Vegan? What?”

“Vegan, Eran. Vegan. I’m vegan.”

“Fuck off, Noa. Let’s go to a real restaurant—have something without meat.”

“Eran, Vegan is more than simply not eating meat, you idiot—it’s other things, too. Come on, I can’t be bothered with this eggplant… I don’t know all the words. And I don’t want to wait an hour for food. Come on, we can go and I’ll find you something good—don’t worry. You won’t be left hungry.”

“I don’t want to be not hungry. I want to be full.”

“Not hungry is better than being full.”

“Quit your nonsense. You eat until you’re full, right? For god’s sake… where are you dragging me, now?

“Come on, already,” I dragged him from the bed.

“Hang on, let me get everything. I don’t want to forget something.”

As we waited for the elevator, he carried on with his nonsense.

“How do you explain that the ‘Goyim’ don’t have a thirteenth floor, but for us, it’s considered lucky?”

“The same way I explain how your penis doesn’t have a headscarf. Come on, you dumbass.” We got in the elevator, and from there to a taxi.

I planned on asking the driver for a recommendation. It’s always better to ask the locals instead of Google. Or “City Mouse.” I don’t confer about my meals with mice and spiders.

“Noa, when we’re done eating, we’re finished. No fucking, no joking, no nothing. I’m not kidding.”

“You don’t need to tell me that, Eran,” I said seriously with a cold expression on my face.

Chapter Twelve

“I’m going to pee. Don’t finish my food. It’s good—isn’t it?”

Now, where were the toilets in this place… oh—there… god, I’m dying.

What a relief. A good pee is almost like a good orgasm. After an orgasm, peeing is like having another orgasm.

As I was washing my hands, I suddenly felt a blunt object smash me on the back of my head. I instantly lost consciousness—apparently.

***

Where is she?

These caramelized onions or whatever the fuck it was, was actually really good. It’s onions. I’m pretty sure it’s