We farewell the friends, shower again. Our clothes are not designed to accommodate a penis. We urinate standing up and splash the wall. He says, 'Well, that was interesting. Now how do I get my body back?'

'I don't think you do.'

'But I can't live like this, stuck in the wrong body!'

'We will have to learn some way of living together,' I point out, reasonably. There is the strangest flash of rage, which makes my fist form and beat at my breast; I make the hand fall. 'We can't afford to hurt this body,' I add. 'It's the only one we have.'

'I can hear what you're thinking,' he seizes control of my mouth and I speak aloud, to the astonishment of the cat. 'You did this on purpose. You wanted me to yourself. You prayed to the Greek gods to be always with me. And now look what's happened!'

'We suffer the fate of Salmancis,' I agree. 'Because I loved you, and you were leaving me.'

'I loved you,' he says sullenly. 'But I had to leave. You knew that. You said, "I am an adventure."'

'I spoke the truth,' I say and he laughs. There is something I want to know.'

Does it always feel like that, making love for a man? Do you always just lose desire, once the seed has spurted?'

'Yes. Does it always feel like that for you, that slow build-up, that plateau, where you can climax again and again?'

'Yes,' I say, watching our hands to assemble a meal. Our tastes are different. I wonder what our mouth is going to find acceptable. I bite into a black olive, then spit it out on an impulse of revulsion.

'Tiresias was right,' he says. 'I hate olives, isn't there anything else to eat?'

'Tiresias?' I ask, spreading cottage cheese onto a piece of rye bread and biting again. This goes down without complaint.

'He was half-man, half-woman, like us. He was asked who got the most from love, and he said women. I'm tired. I must sleep.'

'I'm not.' I continue eating. 'I'm hungry.'

The fist clumps again. I unfold the fingers. I eat the rest of the bread, and then he makes me sleep.