Sitting on a couch in a crowded TV lounge in an unfamiliar, claustrophobic hotel. Too crowded; people are elbow to elbow, all staring blank at the glowing screen. My peripheral vision detects a woman sitting next to me, matronly, red haired, older but not ancient. I don’t look at her directly; details are surmised from her blur in the pyramid corner of my left eye. Without warning, I fell her tracing her fingers gently on my leg. I’m wearing shorts. It makes me very uncomfortable. No words. No one notices. Once again, I don’t turn towards her but my eyes still see; she  stops long enough to lick her fingers with her red mouth, then resumes her phantom caresses, wetter, harder. This time I turn, but still don’t speak. She smiles lasciviously, slouches down on the couch, pulls up her blouse and pinches out her panties just high enough for me to see her vulva, red haired and animal. Now everyone looks, still blank. Embarrassed, terrified, and enticed, I try to stand but my movements are uncontrollably clumsy and unbearably slow. Finally I stumble across the room and out of the hotel. It’s raining. I walk aimlessly, full of dread. Try to return to the hotel but recognize nothing. Drift paranoid along wet streets.