‘Mark,’ I called out rather hoarsely, for that was the young man’s name, ‘can you rub some suntan lotion on my back please.’ ‘Lotion Mrs N...wton?’ he replied. ‘Yes, here. I can’t reach my back,’ as I held out the bottle for him to take and felt a sudden urge inside as his fingers touched mine. I quickly undid the bikini top straps as he unscrewed the cap and poured some into the palm of his hand. He knelt down beside the lounger and then began to smear the liquid over my back. ‘Aaah,’ I sighed. Slowly, I moved my fingers. He assured me he had used everything he could get to make it heal properly. Feeling the air on my palm, I was able to move it—slowly but surely. He led me to the door of his rickety working-class building and looked up and down the street cautiously. His large hand grabbed mine possessively, as though I would escape. We descended the wooden steps, and something shot through me. I felt warm. It was sunny. My stomach was full. I was either his friend of his prisoner.. More

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