When they eventually untied me (I was left lying on grass, sodden, for at least 10 mins), I stood under the outside shower with clothes on, first to get as much of the urine out of them before they went into the washing machine, then rinsed the rest of my body. Before going, she would put on a nice sari (never western clothes), apply very careful and understated (not vulgar) makeup, wear dangly earrings, and adorn her very long hair (still past her buttocks) with colourful ribbons and sparkling chains of diamonds. The first time I saw her like this, I didn’t recognise her at all – until this unknown Indian princess who I assumed was a visiting dignitary’s wife, walking past me in the corridor, leaned into my face, slipped me some tongue and whispered her catchphrase in a dusky and recognisable voice: Hey Stevie-boy, I need it up both holes later tonight. Then disappeared into the night, like the guy in the Milk Tray advert used to do.
Unknown to me, the trio had a half
