Some were busy, in the grim darkness plaguing what pleasure they could, from their wan members. The damsel, for such she was, waved at them, and kisse... me adieu. Her lips were encrusted with spend, some wet, but mostly dried hard to her face, like an ancient scab and I turned my face away. She stank of old come, dirty sex, and sour wine. I smelt, almost felt her moving away from me, light on her feet. She left the room as I was looking for me trews, on the dirty floor covered in the dregs of. I often looked at older men. The boys at school were all so immature. I’ll bet he kisses well, I thought. “The Midwich Cuckoos,” he said. “We read that when we were at school. It’s an oldie but a goodie.” “It seems dull to me,” I said, pleased that he’d shown attention towards me. “Keep reading. You’ll like it.” Involuntarily, I smiled. “Okay, I will.” “You should do that more often.” What did he mean? “What?” “Smile. You look sad.” If only you knew, I thought. I smiled. More

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