Sheremembered the spooky feeling of being enveloped by the silent,translucent clouds. She thought how lucky she was to spot thecandle in the window. ...She thought about the portrait of thearcher, wondering what sort of man he was. Slowly, she drew the hem of her nightshirt up, up around herwaist. Her left hand cupped her left breast, while her righthand slipped across her stomach, stroking the skin, finding theshort, curly hairs. She pressed her hand against her labia,rocking it back and. For a long moment her fingers remained locked into her buttocks, clawing them, as though grappled to save her life.She breathed almost normally, her strangled breasts heaving up and down, the nipple chain swaying gently between them. She did not dare to try anything else, except for a few attempts at screaming for help that were totally muffled by the impossibly big gag that filled her mouth. No help was expected from that. Nobody was expected to come either. Her friends never came without. More

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