He knew from a visit to one of those small museums that the woodwork was polished chestnut, laid by German craftsmen long ago. The staircase glowed softly, festooned with intricate stick and ball adornments. An Eastward facing stained glass window in the shape of a keyhole promised a spectacular show come sunrise."Is there someone I should call, Tracy? Do you need a doctor?" No doctor, thanks. I'm in the pink of health! I just had a refreshing dip in your pond to wake me up and I'm feeling fine now, if a trifle soggy. I suppose you could call the nearest hotel." You're crazy! What about your car?" May it's rusty soul rest in peace. It can wait until tomorrow. I don't suppose there's a taxi service hereabout that will accept the monster from the slime lagoon as a passenger?" He plucked a bit of dangling seaweed from his body and looked for somewhere to put it."Your humor is a rank as your aroma, young man."Young man? Him? He paused to take a better look at his unwitting hostess. She. She draws from me what no man could ever dream of, yet somehow, perhaps like a marionette, she can coax from me whatever, whenever her needs make a demand. She draws me again, with one hand choking my base, I swell, my head as big as I have ever seen it, then, almost brutal, a flick from her fingers, to knock me down, I did not feel it. A casual observer, tis what I was. Still swollen, still with one hand choking my life from me, still, perhaps more swollen, a harder flick from her fingers, then another. Her hand takes my beaten and swollen head and begins to wring it, so gently, a lazy circle around my helmut. And again, still her other hand clamped on my base, the blood, swollen and trapped, and still another slow ring around my most sensitive of possessions. Heaven, nirvana, whatever god that fires you, would be her lips, her breath, her mouth, to take my swollen purple head and please me to the simple point of absolutely owning me. A simple kiss, a gesture, the warmth of her.
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