“She’s a.. .cock.. .tease.”

　“She has no idea. It’s like torturing a kitten because it bit you.”

　Jason doesn’t answer. His breath comes in long, shivering whinnies. Just as I am becoming concerned, Clare arrives. She holds up the inhaler, looks at me. “Darling, do you know how to use this thing?”

　“I think you shake it and then put it in his mouth and press down on the top.” She does this, asks him if he wants more. He nods. After four inhalations, we stand and watch him gradually subside into more normal breathing.

　“Ready?” I ask Clare.

　She holds up the scissors, makes a few cuts in the air. Jason flinches. Clare walks over to him, kneels, and begins to cut off his clothes. “Hey,” says Jason.

　“Please be quiet,” I say. “No one is hurting you. At the moment.” Clare finishes cutting off his jeans and starts on his T-shirt. I start to duct tape him to the tree. I begin at his ankles, and wind very neatly up his calves and thighs. “Stop there,” Clare says, indicating a point just below Jason’s crotch. She snips off his underwear. I start to tape his waist. His skin is clammy and he’s very tan everywhere except inside a crisp outline of a Speedo-type bathing suit. He’s sweating heavily. I wind all the way up to his shoulders, and stop, because I want him to be able to breathe. We step back and admire our work. Jason is now a duct-tape mummy with a large erection. Clare begins to laugh. Her laugh sounds spooky, echoing through the woods. I look at her sharply. There’s something knowing and cruel in Clare’s laugh, and it seems to me that this moment is the demarcation, a sort of no-man’s-land between Clare’s childhood and her life as a woman.

　“What next?” I inquire. Part of me wants to turn him into hamburger