Nor did I want to. Bastard acquaintances’ wanton abuse lambasted me in the dining car. I ate a lamb shank, they all had steak. The kitchen ran out ...f ice cream before we ordered dessert. In our rooms we drank until the train arrived in downtown New Orleans. I finished the last of the rum in the train station. I threw the cup away just before stepping into the humid night. The liquor warmed me the entire cab ride home. And when I reached my door, my spirits soared to peaks not reached in. It wasn’t really about trust, anyway. It’s just a...”“ ... primal thing? Why are men so obsessed with their dicks? Comparing them, thinking with them...”“Irina,” he protested with a small measure of heat, “you sound like you’re blaming me for something.”“You pushed her into an orgy — yes, I know that wasn’t your original intent — and the next day she started reliving her history of sexual assault. You’re damned right I’m blaming you. Finding a pile of kinky presents on the doorstep didn’t. More

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