“No, I don’t trust shrinks,” he declared, emphatically.We had reached a point in the conversation that I was reticent to go beyond. Gareth’s e...ectile problems were obviously very vexing to him and I didn’t want to seem like a nosy busybody. I was, however, fascinated by his dilemma.If the problem isn’t physical, what the hell is causing his short-circuit, I pondered.After a lengthy pause, I delicately asked, “What do you fantasise about… when you’re masturbating?”I was immediately sorry about. It was identical to Tereza's. Clegg wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed it before. The bright red enamel shone like a beacon. Then he realised. When he had left the room it must have been face down, its gold, engraved face lying upwards. Ilsa had obviously moved it for some reason. As he lifted the glass of champagne towards his lips he suddenly realised why. He looked across at Ilsa and saw her watching him closely.He threw the champagne in her face. She yelled, falling back on the bed. Clegg. More

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