‘It’s been making you think about how life fucked me too before we met, and now you’ve got a nagging doubt that if you teach me, I’ll do…wha...? Go get my own little Nobody’s-Heard-Of-It-istan and have a war with her?’ He laughed at that and lay down on the bed, his eyes unable to decide between staring into my eyes or the growing wetness hungry for him behind the strip of silk between my legs. ‘Not at all, Dearest One,’ he said as he reached a hand out to touch my stockinged shin. God, he calls. Then she added, mischievously – ‘As, of course, does your Mum – and your Dad!’ ‘You didn’t tell my Mum – that?’ said Anne, in horror. ‘Not in so many words, I suppose,’ answered Kate, ‘but I did tell her we fantasised about people we knew, and she must have put two and two together.’ This was, literally, true, but what Kate decided, reluctantly, Anne was not yet ready to hear was a description of the occasion when a very convivial dinner at Kate and Philip’s house had ended up with Adam’s hands. More

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