![]() ![]() He zipped himself up and watched her get dressed. After a while, he said, “That’s enough,” and moved her gently back. His penis warmed up gradually, but never got hard. The ferryman stared at the roof of his van and rested his hand on her hair and didn’t speak. She worked at it for a long time, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. So now she guessed she knew what a dead man tasted like. He didn’t taste like sweat or musk or piss or man. But he didn’t taste alive, that was for sure. ![]() Not that she’d know what death tasted like. He didn’t taste dead, she thought uncertainly. He was cool in her palm, slow to respond. Lan undressed and used her hand while the ferryman felt up whatever he wanted to feel. He told her it didn’t matter, to do what she could, and then in a wistful tone at odds with his expressionless face, he told her to get naked when she did it. ![]()
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