“I’m unencumbered these days. I just remember a very calm voice in the back of my mind, saying ”That’s it, these are the last seconds of my life. “Not at that.”
“I can’t get aroused,” I protested. Right. It’s you.”
“You were expecting someone else?” I hadn’t met Mila in four or five years, but she hadn’t changed at all. “Get up, get naked, and get on the bed.”
With an involuntary shudder of disgust at the day I’d had, I closed down the laptop and began stripping. I often wish I could meet her.”
“Mila…”
“Yes, well…” She looked me up and down, from my unkempt hair to my nail-polish-less toes. “Let’s go to bed,” she said, once we’d towelled ourselves dry. “Juliana, I know you’re in there. “Hello, Ms L_____,” she said. Mila stroked my head until, little by little, I could make them relax. Later I was told that I was conscious and lucid enough to repeatedly ask, while I was being removed from the wreck and then in the ambulance, whether I still had my legs. “That’s so the oils don’t get on the sheets while I’m rubbing you down.”
I stared at her. This is a sensation so excruciating that only someone with really ticklish skin who has experienced it will appreciate it.
