When she opened the door of the flat she was greeted by the rich scents of garlic and olive oil.

‘Hi,’ Sean called from the kitchen. He was chopping vegetables next to the cooker. He turned and smiled, wiping his hands on a tea towel. ‘You look tired,’ he said. ‘Coffee? A drink?’

‘A bath.’

He came towards her and she forced herself to smile.

‘Come on,’ he said.

She wanted to be in the bathroom alone with the door locked, but Sean led her in, turned on the taps and began to undress her. Behind Rhona the water pounded into the tub, hot and cold, like her thoughts. He sat on the chair and pulled her onto his knee, stroking the back of her neck with one hand while his other tested the water. When it was right, he turned off the taps.

‘Get in. It’s fine.’ She stepped into the water like an obedient child. ‘I’ll give you a shout when tea’s ready.’

He left the door open when he went out. She leaned over to shut it properly.

‘Don’t lock it!’ he called. ‘I’ll bring you in a glass of wine.’

Rhona sat down defeated, leaned back and closed her eyes.

Sean came in twice. First with the wine as promised and again with the bottle to refill her glass. Rhona kept her eyes closed the second time, although he knelt beside the bath so that she could feel his warm breath on her face. Then the water parted with her knees, hitting the sides of the bath in a wave of emotion, as he ran his hand slowly up her thigh.

This was what it was like, she thought. To be primed. Made ready. Sean was good at that. She pushed herself up and opened her eyes.

‘Okay now?’ He was smiling at her, the dark blue eyes full of confidence.

She stood up and he handed her a towel, then the dressing gown.

‘Don’t bother getting dressed,’ he said.

Sean liked women. He was comfortable in their company. But most of all he liked to take them to bed. He played his saxophone with the same sensual concentration he gave to sex. He would cradle it, stroke it, press the right buttons and blow into it until it squealed with pleasure. Recently Rhona had noticed a difference. She had begun to suspect that Sean was not playing her any more, he was playing with her, an entirely different thing.

‘Good?’ Sean said.

‘Delicious.’

‘I put the pasta in the fridge. It’ll do for tomorrow night.’

Sean played a regular gig in a club in the centre of town every Friday night. The Ultimate Jazz Club was dark and intimate. On Fridays it was always packed. The gig started at ten o’clock and didn’t finish till two. Sean often stayed there jamming until sunrise. Rhona had loved to watch him play, ever since the night they met. He’d been booked to play at a police function at the club. At the interval he’d come over to her table and asked if he could talk to her. He was so straightforward, she couldn’t refuse. Besides, she’d been having erotic thoughts about him all evening. She stayed on till late, till the band wound down, playing soft soul music while the crowd drifted off. After he’d packed up his gear, they’d left together and they’d been together ever since.