"I hate it," I complained bitterly at Jack, when we started our now nightly ritual.
After washing up, we massaged each other, relaxing sore muscles. Jack usually started doing it to me, and then I did it to him.
While he was out of practice, he worked in a more rural area before and knew how to ride a horse.
"It's not so bad," Jack observed, as he massaged my thighs.
The heat and pain were intense, and I felt how my legs were relaxing under his strong and gentle hands.
"I like technology," I said. "I like roads, and trains, and cars, and houses with plumbing, and street lighting, and modern life. There isn't even a place in this town where you can have a beer after ten p.m. Ten p.m.! That's when life started in Ashford."
I longed for a cold beer, a plate of fries, and a thick cut of
