" Mr. Gally," Wainright said to me, "would you be so kind as to fetch Mrs. Foster over here so I can talk to her. Just the mother now, not the daughte...."I went and got her, and then Ned and me sat at the bar and took in a tepid beer or two while Wainright talked to her. She sat there staring at him and answering his questions, wringing a handkerchief and fingering this silver thing clipped to the front of her bodice. She had so much dress sticking out in the back it would'a been hard for her to. It didn't hurt, but God it was disconcerting. All this was in silence bar my wife humming a happy tune. Next she knelt at my feet and undoing one cuff, began to roll a stocking up my legs. I could feel my feet and calves shrink and reshape. Also I could tell my hair shrivelled and disappeared. The final soft touch of the silky stocking against this new skin was intoxicating. She redid up the cuff, then did up the next leg. The same weird shit happened and I couldn't understand why she didn't. More

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