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‘It is three miles from the station to the farm, and we shall have to walk.’ ‘Are you well enough to walk three miles?’ I questioned. The previous evening I had seen how the pain in his leg could take hold of him, and I worried that the exercise of walking would be too strenuous. He did not meet my eyes, but responded with optimistic conviction. Erich began to pack his things. I had only my valise, which sat unopened at my feet. I donned my coat and gloves, and sat to watch the trees and fields slowing as they passed the window. In the distance I could see a small shingled building surrounded by signal lamps: the station. The sight of it made me giddy. The train began to scrape to a stop and my pulse quickened. I rose and picked up my bag, then walked to where he stood with his rucksack. My mind was quick becoming a blur of nervous questions, thoughts and memories. I hardly noticed the final stoppage of the train carriage, or that his hand had gripped mine and led me out of the. It seemed to take ages, like a river leaking from between my legs and splashing into the white bowl, but after a minute it slowed to a trickle and finally the last drop splattered into the toilet. I tried to reach for the toilet paper. ‘Stop! Before you wipe, tell me how aroused you are. More or less?’ She looked up at me, self-assured and expectant. When I looked at my own body, I gasped. My nipples were extended like tiny, blood-red daggers, and my clit almost resembled a small cherry. ‘More or less?’ Anne inquired again. I had to hang my head in defeat. ‘More,’ I whispered. ‘See,’ she declared, happy, ‘I told you so, but you wouldn’t believe me. You should really start to trust my judgment. Talking about judgment,’ she pulled a few sheets of toilet paper off the roll and folded them, ‘I think your infatuation with Jason was a case of bad judgment on your side. Lean back.’ I leant back, a bit miffed now. ‘What do you mean with bad judgment? He’s not that bad.’ ‘Not bad, my ass, he.
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