They were just starting a new game, she was breaking and as I looked at her hands I noticed lots of gold rings on pinkish, slightly swollen hands. Her...face had been good looking but drink had made it worn. We nodded to the players and sat beneath one of the dartboards to watch the game. They were intent on their game; the woman potting three in a row before handing the cue to the man. He sank four, then missed. With a curse he handed back the cue and picked up his drink, sucking the suds. The door opened and Ben stood there, in a pair of loose fitting sweat shorts and his trademark, tight t-shirt. His body always reminded me of one of those Abercrombie and Fitch models, toned to perfection. He grabbed me by the hand and led me through to the lounge. There, he had the bottle of champagne that I had bought for him that first night, sitting in an ice bucket alongside two glasses. He turned and smiled at me, which always lifted my mood. “Well, you did say it was for a celebration. More

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