Mila stroked my head until, little by little, I could make them relax. However, the first time I was recovered enough to go out in the street, I was hit by a panic attack. “I’ve no intention of disappearing.”
“I know, but I can’t let you kill yourself by neglect either.” Her hands moved on my lower back, from my spine out to my hips and back, in circles. Mila visits me at least one weekend a month, to make sure I’m doing all right. Could I have your phone number?”
Somewhat surprised, I gave it to her. I was so wet by now that I felt my vaginal fluids trickle down my perineum. “She’s coming back,” she said. “I told you!”
She kept the water jet on my clit for what seemed like eternity but was probably two minutes, leaving me gasping for breath, with a tightness in my lower belly I had not expected ever to feel again. “So….’Mila’? It made me feel suddenly vulnerable, but not in the way of being helpless. At other times those same memories would be a cruel reminder of what I had no longer. You look as though you’re about to fall apart.”
“I’m all…” I began, and caught the look in her eyes.
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