The public prosecutor would imagine the she-devil in hundreds of poses and positions, offering herself to her companions at the drug-fuelled orgies over which she presided, directing every depraved movement, indulging every sordid whim, inflaming every twisted desire. He could smell her body's every fragrance, taste her body's every moisture, feel every perfectly-formed part of her rubbing against him until, in a kind of dawn delirium between waking and sleeping, to his great shame his nocturnal reveries would cause him to pollute himself.