when he pressed himself down into her like a thick slug on a flower , she could feel his weight crushing her body and feel him begin to explore her unpainted torso with his mouth and then go lower and feel his hands moving over her body , covered in paint , slick and wet , and she thrashed harder trying to heave him up away from her and she swore at him as she never swore in her life , calling him every kind of filthy name she could think of , names coming through her tears and heaving lungs , and he kept moving , sometimes sliding up over her and he would look in her eyes and listen to her screaming filthy names at him and he would smile .