The women I met taught me that for good sex, the desire had to be mutual and strong. It was as much about the joy and ecstasy of giving pleasure as it...was about being pleasured. Good sex was a dance beyond what a dance could be. It was the ultimate, shared, life-affirming celebration of ourselves through our now desired and desirable bodies. These women and I made love, explored, adventured, crossed boundaries. We laughed at and ignored the prissy folks that disapproved. Some things stopped us. But that quest for har**ore sexuality is squashing intimacy and romance faster than bedbugs.There she is, fragrant on bath salts, waiting for him to look up and notice her in her lacy camisole. And there he is, sprawled on the bed, flipping channels languidly, spoilt for choice between cricket and pole dancing on the telly. He finally looks up, yawns and reaches out for her. She looks disgusted and hisses at him, "Undress yourself." And she is not alone. Between 2003, when INDIA TODAY-AC. Three days ago, she had faced Zargal, an alien terrifying the city and she was unable to forget the savage rape she had suffered. Now here she was, sitting in the pale light hoping he would return to fuck her once more. She had promised the city council to rid them of the beast but that seemed to be a world away. Now she could only hope to become his fucktoy.Zargal had ravaged her every hole, forcing her to fellate his massive erection before driving himself deep into her anus. Her holes were. “Oh Lord, son, I done told you. I’s no fool. They don’t think pushers did the killin’. Dey think Riders did. They’ve been asking about the Riders by name, especially amongst the older folks. They don’t know if the Riders are real but they are trying to find out. That’s all I’ve got.” He stood and shook hands with Henry. “Thank you for listening.”“Thank you, Sir. You come by anytime you have something you want to tell me. I’ll be happy to listen.” After Mr. Jackson left, Henry rested his elbows.