"He rolled me over on my back and got up on his knees, straddling me. Thenhe laid down on top of me, and pressed his hips into mine, our erectionsrubb...ng against each other. He humped me for several minutes, his weighthard to get used to at first, but then perfect. I spread my legs apart andwrapped them around his waist, my hands rubbing along his back, pulling himinto me. The tingling, warm feelings grew more and more in my groin, moreintense than ever before. He grunted slightly as he thrust. Droughts and floods were still the Australian markers. I finished my wine. Charlotte seemed engrossed in the final chapters of Tree of Life -- the dressmaker, the concert with the Jewish violinist, Stan’s death; the boy with a piece of glass who would write a poem.I thought of Finnegans Wake and of Mann’s Magic Mountain and the way modern novels end, begin, circle. Eddison, too. Ouroboros. In Antony and Cleopatra she’s wished ‘all the joy of the worm’. But worm might be dragon.“Gordy! Are you. More

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