Mischa reminded me of one of those toys you wind up, put on the ground and then they crazily crash into walls, bounce off and continue crashing and banging into furniture and anything else that gets in their way until they are exhausted of power. There was no let up in Mischa's continued and sustained wantonness! Every time I attempted to pause for breath, she would renew her attack on me, demanding rampant sex in every way imaginable. On the floor, on the sofa, bent over against a post, there was simply no stopping her and do you know what the strangest and most shocking thing of all was? Yes, listen, learn and be cowed, my brethren, in spite of a whole hour of crazed rampant sex, did she at any time think of removing her wooly cardigan! I shudder to think what would have become of me, if she had done so!
