Proserpina

I must have been dr*gged again. Woozily, I opened my eyes.

Two women had materialised before me. They hauled me to my feet and made me move forward.

I felt myself being led, on unsteady feet, through a corridor. On either side of the richly carpeted aisle, were pictures again. But these were photographs, splashed in black and white. Not so explicit ones of men and women in various poses, making love. If such hideous acts could be called making love, I thought ...