“Carla?” Came John’s querying voice softly over the speaker.“Yes. It’s me John.” She replied.“Oh Shit!” he said, “I’m sorry Carla....I should learn to keep my mouth shut.”“Hey. Don’t worry about it. I understand perfectly.”This was bizarre. Here we both stood, naked. Carla embracing me from behind, one hand still fondling my breast, the fingers of her other hand masturbating me almost to the point of swooning, and, at the same time, carrying on a phone conversation with my boyfriend who was. Way below her is a road that edges between the buildings and the flat expanse of mud. Cars whip along it. Large rocks are piled beyond it to keep the encroaching mud at bay. Huge piles of rubbish cover the rocks, stretching out over the slime. The apartment dumpsters don't have far to go to be emptied. Through the trash, some clambering over the rocks, some knee deep in the muck, figures are moving, bending, picking, filling black trash bags. She tries to imagine being down there, bending in. More

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