’ Right on cue, one of the mob pulled on the hood covering the ragamuffin’s head. Although mottled and darkened with filth, her hair was unmistaka...ly flame red. I sighed inside again. Stupid people…in the north, half the population has red hair, and in my experience the fairest maidens to a one bore scarlet locks. But down here red hair was rare, and since the devil’s color was red, they concluded that red hair must be mark of the devil. I supposed I shouldn’t be too smug, for these folk had. Not a word escapes your lips. And your ass presses harder still against my cock. A Chinese word. I don't understand. Could you be saying, “Oh God”? Could it be “Stop”? I hesitate but your hand flies down to mine, covering it and you stroke yourself with my fingers. The little button, like a tiny cock, pulsates, rises, demands attention. And when I touch you again, your juices flow freely over my fingers. “My mouth is dry,” you murmur. “Do you want water?” “No, don’t. More

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