A songbird’s whistle echoed on the wind, fading in and out of clarity, becoming both near and distant. There was a silhouette in the fog, androgynou... and indiscernible. A woman was speaking in my ear, whispering truths I could not know with my waking mind. They carved themselves into my cognizance, then scarred without pain. Transient thoughts moved over the wounds like a tide over footprints in the wet sand, and the idea that had been imbedded there was lost to me. The silhouette in the fog. ’ ‘Come to the master? Come for his pleasure?’ She murmured and stood up to walk around the table, before crouching down on the gravel at his side. ‘Both,’ he smiled, petting her hair. ‘There is an unrelenting hardness in your gaze.’ ‘Indeed there is.’ ‘Our two worlds risk colliding and you are at the juncture,’ she continued as he reached down to cup her breast through her blouse. ‘Yes: a rock and a hard place – if you are my rock… ‘Ooh!’ She exclaimed, twisting her body to ease the grip of. More

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