Or my desperate hope that she will be. A shaking hand fumbles with the key, a shaking head tries to blow the hurricane out of my coordination centre, ... shaking fist finally gives up and hammers on the thin doorframe. Movement, thumping sounds and a lock that rattles. She is there, her face now not a seductive wink, but a worried fluster, her frame no less wonderful, standing in the doorway with a speech halfway up her throat when she stops. The city, the cardboard tourists, the old bricks and. A little more and I came to her hymen, she was so small I only had about an inch and half in her, I kissed her and said it would now hurt, she took a deep breath and held it and bit down harder onto her hand. It was now or never, I pushed and her hymen gave way, her hand flew from her mouth and she screamed out, it was a scream like I had never heard before, the pain she must have felt I could never imagine, all I could think of doing was to cover her face with little kisses, tears were running. More

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