We laughed and chatted as he drove and soon we were at my door. I pouted, telling him I wasn’t ready to go home and asked if we could go for another...drive. He took country roads, which was much more exciting, the sports handling on his car leaving me sliding on the leather seat, as we turned corners, followed by giggling like a little girl. I looked over at him and noticed his chiselled jaw and exposed neck and I wanted to kiss it. The collar on his shirt open, exposing a little skin at the top. It was hopeless; they were damp, stained and smelled strongly of aroused female genitalia. For a moment I contemplated washing them under the tap but there was no way they could be dried on the train.Naturally the spare pair of knickers that pregnant women routinely carry for just this eventuality was in my laptop bag not my handbag. I would have to return to my seat to get them. I thanked God that my maternity dress came to mid-thigh rather than the shorter dresses I had been routinely wearing. Her neck burned and itched; her nipples were stiffand aching; and a tremor was building in both cunt and tummy. If she couldget to safety, she might just shake off the small dose of poison.But where to go? She had thought she knew every inch of the woods, but everythingshe saw now was unfamiliar. She risked a glance behind her: nothing. She turnedthen and made off in a new direction; but it was no use. It was as if she hadentered an entirely new forest. For the better part of an hour, she ran. ”“I suppose it would be one where the two people work together to make decisions,” I said.“So, you imagine an equal sharing of power within the relationship – a kind of two-person democracy?” asked Benito.“Yes, that’s right,” I said.“Good. In this day and age, that’s the only type of relationship we hear about. In most parts of the world, including here, it used to be that the man would automatically be the dominant partner and the woman was required to be subservient to him. What with feminism.