She holds the flashlight out to the side, pointed at us so I can see half of her face, and she can see half of mine in the blackness. ‘I know,’ s...e says. ‘Go to sleep – I’ll come back for in the morning.’ She’s already standing to leave, but I know I don’t want to sleep. ‘Hey – hang back,’ I say. She stops and turns. ‘You awake enough for a chat?’ ‘A short chat?’ ‘I didn’t really think about it. I just… wanted to sit back and talk like we used to.’ Even in the blackness, I can see her. It’s one thing to exchange erotic stories, it’s still another thing to exchange emails and instant messages. All of these cross lines and venture from anonymity into intimacy But to see a face, that is the ultimate in intimacy. That’s what I wanted. I wanted her to become a real person, with a name, but more importantly, with a face.Yet I feared that I had offended her sensibilities. I had crossed a line and presumed, and perhaps had shown her more than she needed or wanted to see.Thirty. More

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