His head collided glancingly with a rock. His conscious -- ness faded.

AFTER a period, the maiden came again, bearing food. This time she was somewhat better prepared: she had a box and a jug and a bowl and a curious spoon. She opened the box and poured some bits of something into the bowl, then opened the jug and poured something he recognized --

milk -- into the bowl with it. She gave him the bowl and spoon, and made gestures as of using the spoon to eat the peculiar mix -- ture.

He tried it. He dipped out both milk and food-bits and put the spoon in his mouth. The bits were crunchy, and the milk not sufficient to slake his thirst, but of course this was only

one spoonful.

Colene smiled. Evidently this was the proper way to do it. She was now attired in a completely different outfit: a heavy shirt, solid cloth shoes, and some kind of tight blue trousers. No woman in his reality would allow herself to be seen in such clothing, for it was disturbingly similar to nakedness from the waist down. The muscle of her posterior flexed vis --

ibly as she walked, and there was no looseness at all in the region of her groin. The contrast between her decorous upper section and indecorous nether section was startling.

She sat on the floor to watch him eat, folding her legs so that her feet were crossed and her thighs were wide apart. He tried to avoid looking at this embarrassing display, but he could not do so without turning his face completely to the

side. The worst of it was that the maiden seemed to be com -- pletely oblivious to her erotic display. Her manner suggested that her concern was only with his consumption of the milk --

and-bits concoction.

He tried to be similarly oblivious, but her spread crotch was directly in the line of sight of his bowl and spoon, and his gaze could not help but center on it. There was no doubt: she wore no diaper beneath those alarming trousers. He was getting a reaction. He felt a flush coming to his face.

"Trouble?" she inquired, becoming aware of his distress. "Food bad?"

How could he explain, without similarly embarrassing her? But she insisted on knowing.

Finally he set down bowl and spoon, put his two hands on her projecting knees, and pushed them together.

For a moment she was confused, then startled. Then she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard that she fell over backwards, drawing her legs up against her body and kicking her feet from the knees. This was no improvement; not only was her indecorous region in view, it was flexing.

His face was now burning.

Finally she exhausted her mirth. Then she kneeled beside him, kissed him on the cheek, and gave him another lesson in clothing and culture. "Blue jeans," she said, touching the tights.

"Okay. No show bad."