I look at the ring on his finger and wonder about his wife. What is this man doing here? I can tell he wants to, with me, but he is battling with this for as long as he allows himself to see me. This is dangerous for him. He looks away out the window at the drops of icy rain that look like smashed crystal, powdered against the pane.

‘Always loved the sound of hail against a window, once you’re cuddled up inside,’ he says as he gets up to pull the curtains. ‘Privacy,’ he says, without looking at me, and I can feel myself harden.

He sits back against the pillows and pats the space beside him for me to come join him. ‘Do you smoke?’

I shake my head.

‘Mind if I do?’ He lights up. ‘A secret vice of mine. There are so few places where you can smoke indoors these days. Illegal of course, but well …’ He inhales deeply. It sounds and smells like Papa. ‘Is there anything you enjoy doing?’ he asks.

Do I tell him about climbing trees and writing essays and running and swimming? I am not that girl any more. Something about the tone of the question makes me steel myself. ‘Do you like this?’ he says, as he leans in and blows a mouthful of smoke into mine. So, not so different after all.

I start to undress and allow my eyes and mind to soften and blur.

‘You’re very beautiful,’ he says, blowing smoke at the ceiling.

I know that line. It’s one I have heard many times before. Usually, once they have said these words, they want to empty themselves into me and make their sounds. This man keeps looking. Usually they do not see at all, and after a certain point I know mine could be any body beneath them. There is a strange comfort in that. This man’s eyes bore into me, making this much more intimate than it should be.

‘You are cold,’ he says. ‘Here, get in,’ and he holds back the quilt for me to join him in the bed. He is fully dressed and has made no move to undo his belt. Perhaps I am meant to do this for him.

‘No, that’s ok,’ he says. ‘Let me just look at you.’ And he traces my body with his fingertips. ‘Has anyone ever given you any pleasure?’ he says, not waiting for my answer. He stubs out his cigarette and kisses me all over. ‘Relax …’ He blows on my body and uses his fingers and his tongue to moisten me and open me up. ‘Show me,’ he says, as he places my hand between my legs.

I do nothing, so he puts his hand over mine and starts to move it in circles. His breath speeds up, and his face goes down.