Oh!" Susan screamed.

Manuel spun around, attempting to catch her, but failed. Susan, reaching for his hand, instead grasped his trousers and fell with a thud, crying out in pain. She landed kneeling before him, her hands gripping his pants.

Both froze. Susan, unable to meet his gaze, saw her own awkward position reflected in the bathroom mirror—a scene she instantly recognized as resembling a pornographic film. She longed to flee but the pain in her knees prevented her from rising.

"Let go of my pants," Manuel said coldly.

Susan quickly released her hold, losing her balance and falling forward. Her face landed on his crotch, a consequence, she suspected, of her extreme nervousness. Crimson with shame, she was speechless.

Manuel recoiled at her sudden movement, wanting only to escape. Susan, equally flustered, instinctively grabbed his genitals.

"Susan!" Manuel snarled, his anger palpable.

Susan, mortified, hadn't intended to touch him inappropriately; she'd simply been searching for support. But the fact remained: she had grabbed his penis.

"Let go!" he yelled.

She hastily released him. Manuel immediately moved away, avoiding her as if she were contagious, then slammed the door behind him, leaving her on the floor.

"How could he do that?" Susan thought, examining her hands, remembering the feel of his skin and his abrupt departure. Ignoring the sharp pain, she stood, discovering her knees were badly swollen. She worried someone might misinterpret her injuries as evidence of something improper. After applying a damp paper towel to her knees, she waited until the pain subsided before leaving the bathroom.

Entering the dining room, she found Manuel gone.