I moved to disengage from Ivanova but she held me fast. Looking over my shoulder I watched as Mira and the redhead came close and felt the back of my ...ress being lifted, not knowing by whom. The redhead smiled as she saw the jewel between the cheeks of my arse. Mira spoke. “Did I not tell you, Elena, how beautiful she is?’ A hand caressed my arse and then pulled at the plug which slithered easily from my well-lubricated hole. Ivanova turned my face to hers and kissed me harder and began. Rather than a lamentation, the poem should have been acelebration of such a triumph. Poets, even of the stature which hadbeen accorded to Edgar Allan Poe, never seemed to get anythingcompletely right, especially when it came to science. (Poe's Eureka!was truly ludicrous.) Still, he had to admit, if grudgingly, that thepoem did at least admit science's truth and the falsity of myth or, asit had been understood in its day, religion.As he sipped a daiquiri at his umbrella-shaded table atop the. More

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