There is an unnatural tautness in his pectorals, and he flexes them as he breathes, making me wonder if it’s deliberate. I spot slight perspiration ...round his armpits. My heart is out of sync again. One part – the lower, damp part of me - is still in the world of colonial sexual indiscretions. The other part of me is here in the real world, but with my very own plantation Sam across the table. Except that this is no smelly, brutish slave labourer, and I don’t see any signs of attack coming. But. I didn't get cut or beat up all that year I lived and worked in that trailer. I got held up. The landlord raised the rent and the sheriff collected what he called protection money. I soon learned about business expense but I was making so much money that it didn't matter. I quit the job at the truck stop because I could make so much more by staying in the trailer at night. When Karen knocked on the door I thought she was coming for my nineteenth birthday. Then I saw the suitcase and daddy's. More

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