Sarah let herself sink into the corner opposite the door, her backpack more comfortable than the softest pillow could have been because unlike the lat...er it offered protection from more than just tiredness. She put the gun next to her, pulled out one of the books she had stuffed into her pack along the way and flicked through the pages without much actual interest or focus. There had been times in her life when she had spent every waking hour reading, but now that she had the time and access to. I pull Anita’s fingers from my mouth and busy myself with lapping at all the fluid coating her palm and the back of her hand. “You’re a squirter.” Now, I’m not sure that I like the word but it does seem to be an accurate description of my condition, so I nod my head slightly as my tongue chases a bead of liquid that is trickling its way down through the sun bleached, downy hair of Anita’s arm towards her elbow. “Look Grant, she’s a squirter. We’ve never had a squirter before. Look at that. More

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