It took him several long minutes to gather his wits. He was lying on a bare concrete floor in a small room. It had no window and only one dim lightbul....How had he gotten there? He sorted his memories into some kind of order. He had been going back to the cheap room he was living in during this operation. Someone had been there, and had jumped him when he had entered.Had his cover been blown? If it had, the question was what would Quince do with him. He struggled upright, and examined the door.. I found myself, as in the hotel at the start of my story, wandering the corridors looking into cabins with their doors ajar. I was drunk and looking for a fuck and even wandered into a cabin where a man lay sleeping on his bunk, snoring.I closed his cabin door, the noise he was making gave me the courage to take my clothes off and sit on his bunk, taking 'Selfie Photos' of us together, before lying alongside him and masturbating myself, using up all my iPhone memory of me doing it.As dangerous. What happened next was so quick it was almost a blur: she stood up and took two long strides towards him, performed a one-eighty which pointed her ass in his face (her skirt swirled upwards and Steve's heart stopped at the glimpse of tanned, pert buttocks and a black thong), and parked herself on the seat next to him, her arms pressed against his. She brought her legs up and rested her heels on the seat in front. She looked at him as if to say, How d'ya like that? Steve laughed. When she felt it she spat out, "Shit! Me and my big mouth!" and started to cry. He stroked her back to comfort her, and she was able to say. "Dex, I was just kidding, honest!" Hey, Psyche major! Ever hear of a Freudian slip? That's why I worry about hurting you. If you give yourself to me with any hope of this being permanent, then you will be hurt if it doesn't happen that way." So you won't teach me? You won't make love to me?" I didn't say that. I want to in the worst way. I think we need to.