His nails are trimmed, the cuticles neat. His fingers are long, warm as he clasps my hand. “I’m Lucian Martinus.”“Good morning, L. Martinus,�... I say returning the greeting in a more socially acceptable form. We are all equal under the government’s benevolent eye. Titles and first names are impolite gender conventions.His voice is vaguely familiar, but my head is muzzy; too filled with dreams of last night to think properly. I can’t place where I’ve heard it.He brings my hand to his lips and. He yelled, "Holy fucking shit! You got some big fucking titties baby." It didn't seem like he could say anything with out saying fuck. Several men kept slowly moving behind me, making me move deeper into their campsite. They had obviously done this before to other girls."What the fuck you got under that dress girl?" the cigar guy yelled. Oh yes, I was getting more nervous, as other groups of men came over to join them. There had to be at least a hundred men surrounding me, but I thought "what. More

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