A phantom now, I still feel it. In my mind, like a shutter on a camera. Capturing bits and pieces of moments that alcohol did not deteriorate. We felt...like snakes. Two more shots now, and I think we are on to something. The feel of other people, the familiar ring of their cell phones. The lights began to look spread out like water on a windshield. And still we were snakes. Bumping into each other and pulling apart like smoke. I had claws and you had claws. We were snatching at each other.. A hand job was the least profitable. That might get no more than a medium-sized melon, or a frozen pasty, or a second-hand comb. A blow job might be worth a packet of twenty cigarettes, a large bottle of Coca-Cola, a whole frozen chicken or a litre of milk. A fuck might rake in as much as a bottle of wine or a leg of lamb. And anal intercourse would bring in a small transistor radio or a bottle of spirits. Compared to how she'd been before, Tracey felt rich. And the cigarettes were welcome as. More

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