The novel I’d seen her read lay open next to one of her sleeping hands. I bent over Carral and studied her face: it was tender and still, not an eyelid moved. When I had reassured myself she was asleep, I took the book. On the back there was a library stamp, and on the inside of the cover was a little envelope with a library card inside. A sticky stain ran along the fore edge. On the front, one side of the cover was torn, while the other showed a pair of full lips, a pack of wolves with their snouts in the air, and a huge, shining full moon at the top of the picture. The title was positioned between the wolves and the moon in slanted script: Moon Lips.

I leafed through the pages: title page, copyright, contents … The introduction began,

This isn’t just any romance in your hands, dear reader …

And then the first chapter:

Miranda Darling’s lips were full and succulent, the envy of her friends and torment of her frustrated suitors. By day, you might think her mouth like a cherry, and by night, when she graced the balcony to sip a tall glass of Campari, the gloss on her lips rivalled the moonlight.

I turned the pages for a little while. Moon Lips seemed to be typical pulp. I wasn’t very interested in Miranda Darling or the handsome hero, chasing one another breathlessly through the chapters. While I leafed, I lost my grip, and the book fell open on a much-read page:

He walked slowly towards the old woman in the crowd, knowing that her glaring eyes could see right through his clothes, to his proud limb … She laughed and said, ‘You’re well-endowed, man-human.’

After that paragraph I turned the pages more slowly. The paper quality changed, thickened almost, as if the pages had been soaked and dried again. Slowly the scene was set for what I guessed was an ancient sex ritual, and I understood that this was where the hero took innocent Miranda’s virginity:

The three other women gathered behind him, stroked his back and howled like wild animals. Miranda was under him and felt his erection pulse against her opening. She wanted him now. He broke through the soft hymen and thrust his fleshy sword into her tight warm sheath.