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My mind kept wandering to Robby and thinking about that morning. I shifted a bit uncomfortably, and I resisted the urge to touch myself. Robby would be doing that for me before too long. Another ten minutes passed, then twenty. After forty minutes, I thought that maybe Mom and Dad had turned on the TV in their bedroom, and that explained why he was waiting. So I tip-toed to the banister overlooking the stairway and listened, but I couldn’t hear anything. And if they had the TV on, I definitely would have heard something. He didn’t seem that timid this morning, but then again we were completely alone then. Maybe he was just being extra cautious. After another twenty minutes, I started to wonder if Robby had fallen asleep. I was disappointed, and a little miffed. But I resigned myself to a night alone, and vowed to give him a hard time as soon as I had a chance in the morning. Crawling under the covers, I turned off the light and tried to relax. At first, I did everything I could to. Her 'panties' got soaked despite being of waterproof silk, and the movement of the horse made the little protrusion on the top rub her buzz button thrillingly.The horse riders in this time and area didn't use leather saddles or stirrups, just a light pad or blanket strapped around the horse's belly. John thought if he was going to be on a horse very much he would have to invent a saddle with stirrups. His little invention for Zithrusa's pleasure was stirring her up!She transferred her lust onto John in the nights, and there were many complaints of 'panthers and leopards' in the mornings. Wong moved the silk tent over by the camels so he could slee- er- watch over them.At the Kokand crossroads, in the dirty little town which squatted there for no other reason than to provide drink and food to the caravans while their Masters made up their minds to take the right fork or the left, or to leave messages to each other, John and Zithrusa none-the-less managed to trade the skins for wood..
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This was the difficult part of the story. Although it was a hard, traumatic experience, and she still felt insecure and violated afterward, Christie had no memories of the rape to haunt her. Instead, she was consumed with not knowing, with wondering how she had behaved while she was with Andy. Did she enjoy it? Did the drug make her a willing participant in her own rape? After a month had passed, Steve came along to fill in some of the gaps. ‘It was just a day or two after I found out I was pregnant, when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse, Steve showed up with some photographs. You remember how I said he wanted to be the one who held me down? Instead he photographed the whole thing.’ ‘Do you think he raped you, too?’ The kettle whistled, saving her from answering right away. Danny got up again, and began preparing the tea. ‘Do you?’ he asked. ‘Yeah,’ she admitted. ‘I married my rapist. He never admitted it, and there was no DNA evidence tying anybody but Andy to it, but I.

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