An old girlfriend, a particularly radical and devoted feminist, once told me that all heterosex was, by its nature, violence against the female person... I am not so sure I agree, or surely I would not be lying, willingly, on a creaking bed in a drab, seldom-dusted motel with this Stranger. Still, I have a sense that I’ve survived something.He applies his mouth to the wound, half-teasing, half-soothing. I don’t know if my whimpers are generated by the sharp pang of lust or by pain. I tense as he. Some part of me, maybe a more rational part, tried to point out that without that shipwreck, my mother would not have met father and I would not have been born. That maybe my mother had added a hidden message to the text she had written for me, and I was reacting this way because of that subtle, hidden, message. After all, my mother had mastered the hidden writing. I closed my eyes. If that was how it was, then it was. There was no way that any magic push could be this long-lasting and now I. More

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