She asked herself the same question she was going to ask Fran: if she wanted to escape?Only she didn't know. She couldn't make the decision now. And, when the time came, what decision would she make?Renee collapsed on the bed and the sweat beaded on her body despite the chill in the room. It's the heroin, she told herself. It's the desire for heroin that's making me sweat.But she lied to herself, and she knew it. It was fear--fear that she wouldn't be strong enough when the time came to make a choice. Fear that maybe, just maybe, she would choose to live in her body as an animal, as a manifestation of lust, as nothing.Quietly she cried herself to sleep.When Manuel came again, was it days or hours, Renee wondered dully? He unleashed them and let them sit up and eat bowls of foul smelling soup and bean tacos.Renee wasn't really hungry. She ate mechanically, chewing and gulping her food in a methodical fashion that made it disappear speedily without coaxing. The dull lust that was. . The fourth guy was silent and then the guy who'd spoken first said "What's up Tom, don't you know what to do with it?" and the others all laughed. I'd noticed when we were being introduced that Tom was quite shy, and I felt sorry for him being teased. Another part of me - no prizes for guessing which part - was getting damp; the guy who'd spoken first was the devilishly good looking Paul. I couldn't help imagining what he'd look like naked, and opening myself to receive him ...I did a stage cough to warn them I was nearby, and went through the gate with the beers. "My husband thought you'd be working up a thirst - would you like a beer? I can get you something else if you'd prefer." They all took a bottle. Paul was last to take his, and after he'd taken his bottle his hand stroked my arm (I was wearing a sleeveless sun dress - perfectly decent in length but my arms were bare) and thanked me for being thoughtful. My tummy turned with butterflies at his touch. "You're welcome," I.
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