Before he’d had the chance to respond, P pressed her lips to his. The kiss was a palimpsest of memories, of all the countless kisses they’d shared in the past. He felt as though he were about to cry, but he couldn’t tell whether it was because of happy memories, or friendship, or fear of the boundary he was intending soon to cross.

—

It was late, so he knocked softly on the door rather than press the buzzer. Instead of waiting for an answer, he tried the handle. As he’d expected, the door opened.

He stepped into the pitch-black living room. The glass door to the veranda let in the pale gleam from the streetlights, but it wasn’t bright enough for him to be able to make out anything. His foot bumped against the shoe cupboard.

“Are you asleep?”

He set the filming equipment down by the front door; it was heavy, and he’d had to carry some of it slung over his shoulders as well as what he could carry in his hands. When he took off his shoes and moved over in the direction of the mattress, he could make out the faint outline of a person sitting there. Even in the darkness, he could still tell that she was naked. She got up and came toward him.

“Shall I turn on the light?” His voice was hoarse with desire.

“You smell…,” she said in a low voice, “…of paint.”

He groaned and reached out for her, forgetting about the lighting, the camcorder, everything. None of that existed now.

He laid her down with a snarl, clutching at her breasts with one hand and haphazardly sucking her lips and nose as he hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt. He tugged at the lower buttons, tearing them off in his haste.

As soon as he was naked he pushed her legs wide apart and entered her. A constant panting sound, as if from a wild animal, was coming from somewhere, interspersed with a moaning that rose into an eerie shriek. When he realized that these noises were coming from him, he shuddered; he’d never made a sound during sex, had always thought of it as the preserve of flirtatious young women. Into her already soaking wet vagina, which was contracting alarmingly, he released a jet of semen with a gasp of pain, falling forward as though swooning.

—

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out for her face in the darkness.

“Can I turn on the light?” she asked. She sounded perfectly composed.

“What for?”

“I want to be able to see you properly.” She stood up and walked over to the switch. Their sex had been fairly one-sided, and hadn’t even lasted five minutes, so it was no wonder she didn’t seem tired.

When she flicked the lights on he shaded his eyes from the sudden glare. He waited, blinking, until he was able to lower his hands. She was leaning against the wall. The flowers scattered over her body were as beautiful as ever.