There he focuses on it, his light eyes glowing with a blueish light for a moment. When his eyes return to normal, the bandaging steams in the air, and...when I touch the white rolled up strip of cloth, it’s cold to the touch. ‘Wrap your ankle with that. I will go out and collect the ingredients for your medicine.’ I don’t have time to comment on it before he turns around, nudges the door open with his head, and slips outside. Gone again. While he’s gone, I look around the cabin. At first, when. I run the fingertips of my other hand lightly over my balls, ruffling my pubic hair. My magazine opens at pictures of a dark haired woman, perhaps early thirties, naked except for red high heels: Alison. In one picture she’s squatting with her legs as wide as she can get them, with the camera pointed straight up between her legs. She’s got thick black hair round her pink vagina lips, and big brown nipples. On the opposite page she’s standing with one high heeled foot up on a chair, her back. More

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