I tried a few times to engage her in light conversation and she remained pleasant but withdrawn, contributing nothing beyond a few polite responses. F...nally, after numerous coffee refills and a plate of biscuits and gravy, she took a deep breath and began to tell me her story. Born an only child to a mature couple, she had vague but bright memories of her early childhood. Her parents died when she was eight, and the next several years were spent in a series of foster homes. As soon has her body. She was going to spend and couldn’t help herself. ‘Yes, yes, come for me,’ Enrique panted. ‘Let me feel it happen.’ ‘Noo!’ Constance wailed. ‘Yes, just a little more, let it be good, Constance, so good.’ It happened, rushing outward in turbulent waves and bringing a long, ululating cry from her throat. She coiled onto her side, dislodging his hand from her. Shaking, she crossed her arms over her chest and began to weep. ‘Constance, Constance,’ Enrique said. ‘Oh, how lovely that was! And now. More

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