’I can be so wrong sometimes. She half-turned, flopped back, the back of her head softly landing on my face.“Help yourself,” she giggled.I moane..., a throaty, almost growl, clasped her head in my hands, reveled in the scent, the texture, the color. Finally, I said “Turn.”She did. Our mouths welded together, tongues meeting, exploring. I didn’t feel bad about wrapping my arms around her because she wrapped me in hers. The kisses became hot, passionate, then finally we drew our faces apart.I took. He appeared friendly enough or so she thought she recalled the one time, weeks ago when she agreed to fornicate with a couple Indians who weren’t as friendly. She and Gabriel were out on the trail when she’d done it with the Indian. She enjoyed those moments too and now wondered about this man. He was direct. “What is it you do by hand? I see you doing something. This can be done by man? This can be done by man?” he told her. “I not see man around here. You enjoy yourself but there is no man. More

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