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I seedown to slowly lick the drips fro everywhere, every inch, pretending I was not really in search of the sweet nectar between her legs More ice crea, until she didn’t squirle anymore

I turn away from the empty counter I have never felt so alone inbefore daylight She would have arrived at her home by now I call Sam

‘All done,’ he says crisply

‘Where did you drop her off?’

‘One street away’

‘Right Thanks’

I drink until I can’t see straight, but the wanting doesn’t go away I can’t face the bed I close my eyes and sleep comes I wake up at the sound of so I look at the bottle rolling on the floor It’s empty

I groan when Irina comes into the room

She is co a ss like a fucking Church bell in my head

It is an old Russian cure for a hangover A slice of lear and a teaspoon of coffee on top

I shake my head and pain shoots into it ‘Nyet,’ I whisper

‘It’s either this or haash’ There is not an ounce of sympathy in her voice Fuck that Haash is a Caucasus thick stew that is prepared by cooking tripe and beef trotters for six hours, and to arlic I’d rather die than let one drop of that shit into my mouth

I put round and a bolt of pain hits my brain

‘Fuck,’ I curse, cradling my head

Irina stands patiently next to me with her saucer

I reach out a hand, take the le it between my dry, crusty lips, chew it slowly As soon as I have sed it, she nods with satisfaction and goes back to the kitchen I stand up slowly and go straight into the bathroom I switch on the shower and stand under the hot jet The sluggish blood inI roll ht feels like a dreaet out of the shower, brush my teeth, and walk naked to the bedroom

Slivers of sunlight slanting in through theshutters make me squint My eyes turn to the un a fistful of bedding, pull it up to s to the bed sheets like earlyacross a lake