You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. “They’d better not,” said Hetty.
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