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Days I had spent, uneasy, distracted, ill at ease, remembering, struggling to brush aside the cruel insistencies of recollection; how often I censured myself for my misunderstandings, my foolishness. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 5, Sentence #48)

That fearful moment, the interval of our interaction, brief but seemingly prolonged, which had seemed oddly fixed in time and space, must be swept away, and forgotten as soon as possible. But I had been unable to forget. How could I forget those keen, dark, quiet eyes which had so surveyed me, seeing me as I had sensed I had never been seen before? Did he seem amused, that I might stand in his presence, presenting myself as though I might be a free woman? I suspected he knew better. Days I had spent, uneasy, distracted, ill at ease, remembering, struggling to brush aside the cruel insistencies of recollection; how often I censured myself for my misunderstandings, my foolishness. How easy it is to misconstrue and magnify the smallest incidents, the most meaningless things! Yet, too, somehow, I sensed the matter was not done. I had the odd sensation, from time to time, that I might be the subject of inquiries, that I might be under surveillance. Perhaps photos had been taken. - (Smugglers of Gor)