‘You didn’t chat about the weather or anything?’

… then expeditionary. He was of Italian heritage, hence the fancypants name, and the … the what? The cultural assumption he was better than me in bed because he was Italo-Aussie and my ancestors came from Wales? That’s not how it works, people, not always.

‘… my arse again and it just felt …’

OK. Her arse again, I had never.

‘… but he’s quite fit, so he could still, you know, go for it, all sorts of angles and …’

Never.

‘… and these neck muscles that …’

She used to tell me about Nikau too. I’d asked her to, once the truth came out – as punishment for her, reward for me. They’d spent four days together after Larissa’s party, could barely walk down the street without pashing each other. He could fuck for a very long time, never tiring or climaxing until Sarah was ready. He’d trained himself. He must have fucked so many women, she’d thought, women far more beautiful than her, but she never once felt jealous.

Never.

‘… turned me over and, I don’t know, got himself even deeper …’ More beautiful than Sarah? She’d underestimated. I stopped jerking off.

‘… and just, I don’t know, it was really intense, I could feel myself starting to …’

Started again.

Nikau spurting in Sarah’s mouth. She’d loved that feeling, gazing up at his face, his eyes full of desire, knowing she’d –

‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘Is that someone getting up?’

I downed tools, turned my attention to the living room and hallway. Someone, either Zac or Mel, was heading to the bathroom. Big fucking deal. ‘Don’t stop.’

Sarah returned her head to my shoulder, her voice in my ear. ‘OK, yeah … He kind of kept going like that, I suppose, and, yeah …’

Silence. I was still going. It was the drugs, man, the drugs. But I was close.

‘Keep going …’

‘Well, that’s it, really. As I was driving home I felt so happy knowing I was coming back to you, and that you could, you know, maybe finish me off. I had that Rumi poem in my head, you know …

Fuck Rumi. Fuck poetry. I hadn’t finished her off because I’d pretended to be asleep, and that was a tragedy. I could feel myself losing steam. Breathe. Lie still. Breathe normally. ‘So how did you leave things? I suppose you didn’t get much time for conversation.’

‘Well, yeah … So, afterwards, I asked if he wanted to see me again and he invited us to his party in a couple of weeks. He has a few other poly friends.’

‘Poly?’

‘Polyamorous,’ she said. ‘Like you and me.’

3

3

I kicked some tanbark, watched Sophie and Oliver race from hazard to hazard in the playground. Box Hill. It was cold; the light was fading.

‘This weekend needs to be the end of it,’ Sarah said, shivering next to me on the bench.