His hand was now stroking my back, first gently, then with more pressure, sliding down to my waist. It felt good, and I squinted. “You like this, don't you?” he asked, pulling me closer. For one split second I felt afraid, but then he turned me around, quite aggressively, so that he was now behind me, me leaning on the coffee machine table with my elbows, the scent of coffee beans and his perfume making me dizzy. It didn't make sense, me and this gorgeous creature, but it felt good, and for the first time in my life I just let go. He was pressing against me from behind, stroking my back, applying pressure here and there, using his nails. At one point he bit my shoulder and I jumped from surprise; it was more unexpected and pleasant than painful. I could feel him getting hard and breathing deeply. With one hand he held my neck, while another wandered down my waist, then up, creeping under my blouse, unfastening my bra and grabbing my breast. My heart was beating so fast I was almost. They were all penises. Penises of all shapes and sizeslittering the street. John thought this highly amiss, but assumed that whatever he'd takenlast night must still be affecting him. What had he taken last night?Where was he last night? What did he do? All these questions and morefurrowed his brow. He couldn't even remember what he was doing 12minutes ago, let alone 12 hours.So off he went to work. He worked in a large office block in the middleof London, and everywhere he went he kept finding more willies. He evencame upon the occasional testicle or two, but tried to ignore them andact like nothing was happening. Otherwise they'd surely know he wastaking drugs. He paid little attention to anyone around him and justwent about his data inputting work as normal. A zombified twenty-something going nowhere. In his lunch break, a couple of girls came over to his table. They woreclothes pegs on their noses to stop themselves having to smell John'sgruesomely tangible, unwashed-odour. They.
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