He has a hand on one of her breasts now, inside her bra, and she feels that he can’t hold back either, that he’s caressing it with a desperation that would hurt if she wasn’t so unbelievably turned on.

‘We should go to the bed,’ he gasps.

But Klara pushes him down on the sofa while pulling at his belt, unbuttoning and pulling down his trousers and suddenly he’s in her hand. He’s smooth and hard, and Klara pulls down her own trousers, her underwear, and then she pulls back for a second and looks deep into his eyes.

*

Afterwards she lies with her cheek pressed against his warm chest, her hands still in his hair; he’s still inside her. She can feel his chest falling and rising beneath her. Maybe she should say something, but she doesn’t know what, and honestly doesn’t know if her voice will hold.

Somewhere in the distance a siren is approaching, and when she opens her eyes she can see flashing blue lights shining on the wood floor as a police car drives by outside. Gently, she turns onto her back, lying next to him on the sofa. She glances at him as he stares up at the ceiling.

‘Well well,’ she says finally. ‘You sobered me up.’

She turns towards him and sees a little smile on his lips. He glances at her, then turns his eyes away nervously. ‘This…’ he begins. ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’

She laughs. ‘Really? I thought you were a player? A hawk among the sparrows down at Place Lux? Was I completely mistaken?’

She glances at him and can swear he’s blushing. ‘This… is a little different.’

She’s sitting up now, has found her underpants between the cushions of the sofa. She fishes them out and pulls them on. ‘Is it?’ she says, smiling provocatively. ‘How is it different, George? Do tell.’

She sounds tougher than she feels. Or she doesn’t know at all how she feels – just that she liked what just happened. That she likes George’s lips and breath, his hands on her skin. That she feels so safe suddenly. And she doesn’t want it to end.

George has pulled on his chinos now and is standing up. His hair is dishevelled, almost wild, and Klara likes the way he runs his hands through it, trying to get it back in place.

‘I don’t know,’ he says quietly. ‘Just different.’ He looks at her and grins. ‘Well, are you hungry now?’

She nods. She actually is. The beer has given way to a weak headache. But the pressure in her chest is gone. When has she felt this light lately?

‘There’s a Lebanese restaurant down on the street,’ he says. ‘I can go pick some food up. I think they have a lot of vegetarian stuff, too.’