Timbers creak. The Earth groans. In the ensuing silence, I sense my own pulse; slow and distant as the stars; shallow as a leafy grave. I remember not...ing. Nothing but a name. Daniel. The name opens a door. Now I remember Daniel. Rough, playful hands. Soft, skilful lips. I remember his flesh swelling in my disbelieving hands, his liquid spilling down my naked breasts and dripping from my nipples like a mother's milk, for a mother it will one day surely make me. I cry for him. Cry for myself.. He never really gave it up and used to train after supper as a way to keep fit and calm down from a hectic day at work. I started training with him, and soon, found I had a natural ability for the sport. I loved it, but when my dad tried to get me into a local tournament, the officials running looked at my name Christine and refused to let me fight with the boys. The next time he saw an amateur tournament advertised, he told me to change my name to Chris and to act like a boy. That wasn't too. More

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