On the bike, she didn’t think about what would happen when they got to the shack, but when they were inside it was all there was. A secret, hidden world that had no meaning beyond the damp, misshapen walls. They sat and talked in the little kitchen, drinking his coffee laced with bourbon and smoking. The entire time she was waiting – waiting for him to pounce, willing it and yet afraid of it. When she said she had to go they stood by the door. She was wearing her coat, ready to leave, but she didn’t move. He came up so close to her that she could see each freckle on his twisted nose and each silvery scale of the snake-like scar. He reached for the back of her head and she jerked hers to the side as he leaned forward, so he ended up kissing the end of her nose. She heard him breathe out in a laugh and then his mouth touched hers again. His tongue pushed her lips open and his mouth tasted of coffee and smoke. He stroked her back with one hand and the other was on her skirt. It crept up to her waist and towards her chest. Her whole body shivered. She knew she’d better stop it now or she was done for.

‘Stop,’ she said, but he kept kissing her as if he hadn’t heard. His hand touched her left breast and in a rush of panic she pushed him away. He stumbled and almost fell back onto the kitchen floor.

‘Hey, what is it?’

‘You can’t. I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

She didn’t answer him, just shook her head, resisting the overwhelming temptation to give in.

*