However, to spend time pondering her relationships with men anymore than she already had was likely a wasted effort. She dropped the matter with that thought, picked up the novel she began the night before and sat back to read.
***
Some nights the dreams didn’t materialize as anything more than a vague and disquieting presence. Some nights there were full blown fantasies as vivid as those from the ‘seven day fugue’—fugue being the private name she gave those days between her fated flight to Miami and her troubling return home.
Whether it was dreams of the terrifying jungle or those from Miami Beach, the result was the same. She woke sweating, sometime terrified, but always with her hands between her legs, frantically m**********g to the last image she could recall. There were always s**
