The ache had been coming from a muscle in my lower back and she worked it relentlessly with her soothing thumbs until the knot all but disappeared. She stood, trembling on her feet. Exhausted, she tumbled beside me on the bed. The only sound was the smooth strokes of her arms cutting through the water. She was a girl of saturnine beauty, sharp-nosed, with delicate bones that he dreamt of breaking. He sensed him before her, kneeling before her. From the day I reached puberty, I've always loved cotton dresses. This attack, this assault on her senses had truly reduced her to an animal with only a single need, a single hunger. She was 17 then. She seemed relaxed, almost serene, and we chatted as if we hadn't had a chance to talk in ages.