`` trips , '' you murmur , `` oh boy , captain trips and i am sooo horny ... '' he begins to run and at first you have to look at those smooth hips where the elastic of his briefs rides so low , and then your gaze moves up the flat , tanned belly , then to the beautiful hairless chest , and finally from the slimly corded neck to the face ... and it is his face , sunken and happy and ferociously grinning , not the face of a raphael angel but of a goya devil and from each blank eyesocket there peers the reptilian face of an adder ; he is coming toward you as you scream , he is whispering : trips , baby , captain trips ... then murkiness , faces and voices that he did n't remember , and at last he had surfaced here , in the small house he had built with his own hands on the outskirts of mountain city .