By the door of the station-keeper’s den

By the door of the station-keeper’s den, outside , was a tin wash basin, on the ground. Near it was a pail of water and a piece of yellow bar soap, and from the eaves hung a hoary blue woolen shirt, significantly – but this latter was the station keeper’s private towel, and only two persons in all the party might venture to use it – the stage driver and the conductor. The latter would not, from a sense of decency; the former would not, because he did not choose to encourage the advances the advances of a station keeper. We had towels – in the valise; they might as well have been in Sodom and Gomorrah. We used our handkerchiefs, and the driver his pantaloons and sleeves. By the door inside was fastened a small old fashioned looking glass, with two little fragments of the original mirror lodged down in one corner of it. This arrangement afforded a pleasant double-barreled portrait of you when you looked into it, with one half of your head set up a couple of inches above the other half. From the glass frame hung the half of a comb by a string – but if I had to describe that patriarch or die, I believe I would order some sample coffins. . It had come down from Esau and Samson, and had been accumulating hair ever since – along with certain impurities. In one corner of the room stood three or four rifles and muskets, together with horns and pouches of ammunition.
From the book “Roughing it” written by “Mark Twain.”

The station buildings were long

The station buildings were long, low huts, made of sun dried , mud colored bricks, laid up without mortar (adobes, the Spaniards call these bricks, and Americans shorten to ‘dobies). The roofs, which had not slant to them worth speaking of, were thatched and then sodded or covered with a thick layer of earth, and from this sprung a pretty rank growth of weeds and grass. It was the first time we had ever seen a man’s front yard on top of his house. The buildings consisted of barns, stable room for twelve or fifteen horses, and a hut for an eating-room for passengers. This latter had bunks in it for the station-keeper and a hostler or two. You could rest your elbow on its eaves, and you had to bending order to get in at the door. In place of a window there was a square hole about large enough for a man to crawl through , but the ground was packed hard. There was no stove, but the fire place served all the needful purposes. There were no shelves, no cupboards, no closets. In a corner stood an open sack of flour, and nestling against its base were a couple of black and venerable tin coffee pots , a tin tea-pot, a little bag of salt, and a side of bacon.
From the book “Roughing it” written by “Mark Twain.”

In contrite silence

In contrite silence, he put on the clothes that she’d torn from his body only an hour previously. ‘When can I see you again?’ He hated himself for asking, but he had no choice. He was besotted.
‘I’ll ring you.’
‘I can take time off work whenever you want.’
‘I’ve got neighbours.’ She was tight-lipped. ‘They’re bound to notice.’
‘Well, you can come to my place.’
‘I don’t think so.’
A silence followed.
‘You act like you hate me.’ He accused.
‘I’m married.’ She raised her voice, I have children. You’re ruining everything.’
At the front door, as he bent to kiss her, she said angrily, desperately. When they broke apart, his hand was inside her shirt, kneading a breast. Her nipples were as swollen and firm as cherries and he was once more erect.
‘Hurry,’ she urged, fumbling wit his fly, pulling him out and holding him silky and erect in her fist, She sank to the hall floor, clawing down her jeans, pulling him on top of her. ‘Quick, we haven’t much time.’
She flexed her buttocks, rising to meet him, desperate for him.
He entered her ant thrust with short, intense stabs. Instantly the ripples began to flood through her rising in intensity, spreading outwards and inwards, peaking into almost unbearable pleasure.
After he came, he wept into her golden hair.
From the book “Sushi for beginners” written by “Marian Keyes.”