Lying here in bed, in my room at the nursing home, I think back on all the women I've had. Sweet as maple syrup, every one of them. The warm smell of ...he soft nipple of my high school sweetheart, back before the War that was. It would stand right up, that nipple, when I popped it into my mouth, but, no, she wouldn't let me go much farther than that. Nope. Virginity still meant something in those days.My first real woman was Polynesian. We were based on Maluka Nui, in the Solomons, 'bout the. An ugly, hairy thing covering itself in baggy cloth and denim struggles over the hill toward you. It's carrying a long probe-like object with a metal barrel and wooden grip. The end facing away from the native is hollow. The design seems primitive, no matter what kind of medical service it might provide, it seems suboptimal. The native freezes when it sees you."Hello." You croak.The native unloads both barrels into your body, not medicinal.You fall back onto the warm sand, blood pouring out of. More

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