“But it’s meaningless anyway.” She came up to him, very close. “For either you’re openly, consciously and calculatingly signalling to me what you desire… Or you’re concealing the desire your subconscious is betraying. In both cases I owe you thanks. For the flower. And for what it says. Thank you. And I’ll return the favour. I’ll also present you with something. There, that drawstring. Pull it. Don’t be shy.”

That’s what I do best, he thought as he pulled. The woven drawstring slid smoothly from embroidered holes. All the way. And then the silk and chiffon dress flowed from Lytta like water, gathering itself around her ankles ever so softly. He closed his eyes for a moment, her nakedness dazzling him like a sudden flash of light. What am I doing? he thought, putting his arm around her neck. What am I doing? he thought, tasting the coral-red lipstick on his mouth. What I’m doing is completely senseless, he thought, gently leading her towards a bureau by the patio and placing her on the malachite top.

She smelled of freesias and apricots. And something else. Tangerines, perhaps. Lemon grass, perhaps.

It lasted some time and towards the end, the bureau was rocking quite violently. Coral, although she was gripping him tight, didn’t once release the freesia from her fingers. The flower’s fragrance didn’t suppress hers.

“Your enthusiasm is flattering.” She pulled her mouth away from his and opened her eyes. “And very complimentary. But I do have a bed, you know.”

* * *

Indeed, she did have a bed. An enormous one. As large as the deck of a frigate. She led him there, and he followed her, unable to take his eyes off her. She didn’t look back. She had no doubt that he was following her. That he would go without hesitation where she led him. Without ever taking his eyes off her.

The bed was huge and had a canopy. The bed linen was of silk and the sheets of satin.

It’s no exaggeration to say they made use of the entire bed, of every single inch. Every inch of the bed linen. And every fold of the sheets.

* * *

“Lytta…”

“You may call me Coral. But for the time being don’t say anything.”

Nil admirari. The scent of freesias and apricots. Her red hair strewn across the pillow.

* * *

“Lytta…”

“You may call me Coral. And you may do that to me again.”

* * *