‘Where am I?’ she asked the stranger as she sat up to get a better look at him. He wore a curious expression on his face, as if he didn’t quite ...now what to make of her, his blue eyes watched her, covered by thick black eyebrows. He pulled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt which, she noticed, fell open at the front to reveal a tanned, muscled chest. His left forearm bore a tribal tattoo of sorts, black with a little green around the edges. ‘You’re in my cabin.’ He said, as if she didn’t. A man in the throes ofpassion is filled with a need to take, to hold, to invade. For women,there is a longing, no less demanding, to give, to be held, to befilled. We lay like that for hours, writhing together like impassionedserpents, only our clothes keeping us apart.At one o'clock, I had to go to the bathroom. We had been making outlike teenagers for almost six hours, but I was still reluctant toseparate. In the bathroom, I removed my bra so John could have fullaccess to my breasts. but. More

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