A dozen? Twenty? He soon lost count of the torrent of cruel, expertly-placed strokes that reined down on the cheeks of his virgin arse. The wounds cri...s-crossed his buttocks, until they 'read' like a crazy airport radar picture. He gripped handfuls of the sofa's leather arm and thought of the Normandy landings. German machine fire coursing across the water as they waded ashore. Friends falling to left and right of him. And so the relentless 'enemy barrage' continued, until he was on the point. That was there no matter which way he looked.That was by design. It meant that at any time, he could reach and pressthat button and exit virtual reality. But aside from the exit button,everything looked real."You ready, Paul?" Paul looked around. It was Andrew Smithson,Australia's 5000 metre champion. Paul knew who Smithson was, but hadnever spoken to him, as Paul was nowhere near the standard to have everraced against him. But somehow, in this virtual reality, the Australianchampion knew who. More

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