Having parted company with the contents of his stomach, he sat on the cool, tiled floor, no longer convinced that he was alive. Indeed, at that precise moment, death would have come as a merciful release. The room was spinning about him. Due to the heavy pounding inside his skull, he thought his head was about to explode. His skin was cold and clammy, his pores oozing a liquid which could have been distilled, bottled and sold. His mouth felt as if a small feathered creature had crawled inside and died.

Kevin bent over the toilet again and retched violently. There was nothing left in his stomach and this exercise only made him feel worse – scarcely possible as this was.

‘What the fuck did I drink last night?’ he murmured.

Somehow he had to get himself together and get out of there – wherever there was. If he was going to die, he would rather die at home.

Standing under the shower, the hot water created the illusion for Kevin that he was feeling better. He had risked looking in the mirror, but the image which stared back at him had only made him feel sick again.

He dried himself and returned to the bedroom. As he walked through the doorway, daylight pierced his eyes like sharp needles.

‘Hi, Mike! Want some coffee?’

When the pain eased slightly, Kevin was able to observe his hostess, still naked, but now silhouetted against the bedroom window.

‘Eh…what? Yeah…coffee would be good.’

‘No problem. Shan’t be long.’

The girl bounced towards him, her pert little breasts jiggling provocatively, showing no sign that her lack of clothes in front of a comparative stranger was causing her any embarrassment or alarm.

Who the hell are you? he wondered. And who the fuck is Mike?

As she passed him, the girl lightly flicked the end of his penis.

Kevin looked down. He was feeling better. ‘Get back into bed. I’ll bring it up, so to speak.’

As he sat on the edge of the bed Kevin heard a toilet flush and then footsteps going downstairs.

The girl spoke. ‘Your car is parked outside in case you had forgotten. Not in a rush – I hope. You’ve got promises to keep.’

For reasons he could not explain, even if he had to, Kevin began to feel decidedly uneasy. This bitch must know who I am, he thought, and it’s not fucking Mike…the whoor is at it.

It was not exactly unknown for Kevin to spend the night with a strange female. It was unusual for him not to know who she was or where he was. It was unheard of for him to use a false name – he was Kevin Boyle, after all. Maybe it wasn’t what he drank but what was in what he drank. Maybe this was a set-up. Maybe he had been poisoned. Maybe his paranoia was out of control.