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he going to do? How could he possibly not know who he was
or where  he came from? If he knew what amnesia was (and he recognised
the word as soon as the doctor used it) how could he not know anything
about himself?  It seemed so strange… to know things you were taught
in school,  mathematical formulae  and historical  facts and  figures,
that Paris  was the  capital of  France and that Margaret Thatcher was
the Prime  Minister, and  yet not  know Erotic pleasure your  own name or even if your
parents were alive or dead!

“I’m sorry  I can’t  say something which sounds more hopeful,” the
doctor had  said, less  than an  hour ago  as Adam had been discharged
from the Infirmary. “I can understand how lost you must feel, but rest
assured that  most amnesics do recover some of their memory if not all
of it.”

Adam smiled  wryly. “And  some never get their memory back at all,
correct?”

The doctor  nodded. “I’m  afraid so,  but the  percentage is  very
small. Usually  their relatives Erotic pleasure identify them  from the newspapers or
through the  police, and  once the patient is back in their home envi-
ronment little day to day things keep jogging their memory.”

Adam wasn’t  encouraged. He’d  been in  the hospital  for  over  a
month, ever  since the  police had  found him, dazed and bloody from a
head wound,  wandering through  the streets  late one night. The media
had latched  onto his  case, and for Erotic pleasure several consecutive days his face
had been on more newspaper covers than Princess Diana’s.

But nothing  had come of it. No-one came forward to claim him, the
police drew  a complete  blank, and,  mysteriously, he  had no form of
identification on him.

After a  couple of  weeks the  media got  another more interesting
story to keep their readers happy, and Adam’s fate was quickly forgot-
ten. Depression set in. Deep, Erotic pleasure black depression. Luckily he had made at
least one  new friend  in hospital, a young male nurse called Stan who
always had a cheery word to brighten him up.

“Come on,  sunshine,” Stan  had said  one day  as he dispensed his
drugs. “Things could be a lot worse.”

Adam scowled at him. “Really? How?”

“Well, just look at yourself. You’re a good-looking young guy, and
at the risk of making you big-headed I’d even say handsome. You’ve got
a good  body, even if you have a cracked skull, and I’ll bet you won’t
be on your own for very long even if no-body turns up from your past.”

The flattery  had made  Adam feel  a bit  better, but not much. He
dreaded the  day when, inevitably, he would have to leave the hospital
and begin  to rebuild his life, but where would he start? He had spent
many sleepless  nights, just  lying in  his bed Erotic pleasure and listening  to the
other patients  snoring, wondering  about his predicament. He had very
little money  on him when he was brought in, just a couple of ø5 notes
and a  bit of  change, no idea where he came from and no idea what his
profession was. His accent was also bland and unplaceable. At least if
he’d had  a Brummie accent he would have known he came from Birmingham
or the midlands.

It had been Stan who had christened him ‘Adam’. After long days in
his bed  he had  felt stale  and unclean,  and would have killed for a
bath. When  the doctor  arrived to  do his rounds Adam asked him if he
could have  a shower, not a poxy bed Erotic pleasure bath, something to lift his spir-
its and  make him  feel human  again. To  his surprise  the doctor had
agreed, as  long as  there was a nurse on hand in case he needed help.
Stan had been the nurse.

There were  a couple  of small  private shower  units just off the
ward bathroom  and Stan  followed as  Adam made  his way  to  one  and
stepped inside.  Adam would have closed the door and left Stan to wait
outside, but Stan held the door open and followed him in.

“Don’t I  get any  privacy?” Adam  asked, as he undid his robe and
slipped it off.

“Sorry,” Stan  shrugged. Erotic pleasure “Doctor’s  orders. Anyway you haven’t got
anything I haven’t already seen.”

Adam hung  his bathrobe  on a  hook and removed his pyjama jacket,
hanging that  on top of the robe. Feeling more than a little self-con-
scious, Adam untied his pyjama pants and let