Sleep she needs, because last night Bobby came home from bowling after too many beers and demanded sex in his usual fashion. Sex in the usual fashion...meant he climbed into bed in his jockey shorts, ran his hand over her breast for a few seconds, slobbered some kisses, and then shoved her head down to his crotch. Then after some ministrations, she would roll over, hitch her night gown, spread her legs and guide him in. After a few minutes he would finish, roll off of her, and sleep. Within. It was Spring: the season most celebrated by her tribe. Game was plentiful on the grasslands. There was a rich harvest to gather from the woods. Ivory’s face burnt in the glow of the sun which, however bright, was never warm enough to counter the chill wind that blew from the mountainous glacial cliffs not that far to the North. She bent her neck to follow the transit of a flock of storks flying west. In every direction were the wide steppes that were her Summer home. It teemed with game of. More

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