I am sitting idly in the livingroom of Lauren’s apartment in London and looking toward the kitchen. My mind is blank. Suddenly, I notice that the faucet looks like a fine prick: long, gently curved, white shaft flanked by red and white plastic balls for hot and cold water. As if in a dream, I see myself perched on top of the kitchen counter, the round spout of the faucet deep in my asshole. Moving my bum up and down ever so slowly, I am stark naked. Snapping back to reality, I try to figure out how I would support myself in that precarious position. Will I try I out the next time I am alone in the apartment?