’ Then everything happened really quickly. He took a white cloth out of a zip-lock bag and pushed it in my face. He held me in some sort of headlock...and no matter how much I struggled and fought him of the white cloth kept being pressed in my face. It smelled sweet, chemically sweet, like acetone or turpentine or super glue or something. Within moments I was feeling lightheaded and dizzy. I tried to scream but any sounds were muffled in the cloth, and screaming just made the fumes even. Her breasts. The beckoning shadow between her white thighs. Stop staring, he scolded himself. But he couldn’t. And despite his gaze, she made no motion to conceal herself. He stirred, feeling himself harden, and wetted his lips. Her body—ice-white, almost pearlescent. Like something polished from marble, more than the flesh of a living thing. But her face—he couldn’t see her face. She was holding his camera up, pointing the lens at him.“Bongiorno, signora,” He found his voice, “Mi scusi. Mio. More

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