Since then, things had changed considerably. He’d ­quickly had enough of the orgy at any price, of adolescent gropings in dark corners, of the furtive and pitiful encounters between anonymous skins scarcely touched, of sex quickly performed and soon forgotten; of the sadness, the hopelessness of it all. And especially of the tremendous futility of such ill-controlled gorging.

Now he found himself bruised, tired, disillusioned. Almost bitter at twenty-four, unhappy at his salesman’s job and harbouring few illusions about his chances of becoming an actor.

Jean-Marc was turning up at this point in his life not as a saviour, then, or a last hope, but as a positive force at a ­particularly difficult time. He was grateful now that Jean-Marc hadn’t tried anything the Friday before. He’d been upset at first, for he’d become accustomed to men ­succumbing to his charms, which were many and certain, without his having to lift a finger; he was always sure of his effect, of being able to pick and choose; but that was just his pride talking again, and Jean-Marc’s tact now struck him as more precious than a quickie that would probably be already forgotten.

He’d have liked a sustained and straightforward relationship with Jean-Marc; for the first time in two years he even felt an urge to build something; not necessarily a love story: love was a word he’d more or less erased from his ­vocabulary for some time now, but perhaps a privileged friendship that would approach love, but without the ­consequences, which were so often disastrous. But none of that was very clear because Jean-Marc appealed to him physically and, inevitably, the time would come when that problem would assert its importance.

He was also anxious to know what Jean-Marc wanted from him. Their platonic association, so unusual in a sub-culture where sex is usually the cement and essence of a relationship, both surprised him and piqued his curiosity. There was something pleasant and exciting about this ­peacock dance they’d both been performing without daring to take the next step, something he’d never experienced before, but now was avid to explore. It entailed some ­danger, obviously, the danger of unrequited passion, but wasn’t that a risk in any relationship?

After smoking a good half-package of cigarettes, he ­decided that he’d be as open and honest with Jean-Marc as possible, trying not to get so involved that he couldn’t pull back if he realized that things were going badly. He wanted to be absolutely open with Jean-Marc, not to hurt him, but he didn’t want to suffer either. He’d have to learn caution, something that was almost foreign to him.