Try as I might, I couldn’t stop my lip from trembling. This was a horrible mistake, and I knew it was only going to get worse. Yet, here I sat.

He’d be here any moment, and the agony would start. The years of friendship and love would vanish in a glimpse, and I would be eviscerated without him, without his love, without his friendship.

And yet, I waited because I had given him my word.

The door opened, and he walked in, looking exactly as I knew he would – just like his picture.

God, he was gorgeous. He was 6’ 1”, perhaps 195 pounds, and looked all muscle. His hair was black, but with some streaks of grey. He was 34.

And I wasn’t.

He looked around. For me.

I kept my head down, not knowing what else to do. I heard him move closer.

“Janet?”

I looked up, slowly, wanting to vanish in a puff of smoke. “Hi, James.”

After a moment, he sat down. “Not even a kiss for your old friend?”

“Am I?”

He rocked back in his chair. “Are you what?” he said, sounding puzzled.

I laughed bitterly. “Am I Janet, or am I your old friend?”

He reached across the table, and took my hand, forcing it from its mate. “Janet, look at me. Please.”

So I did. I let him see all the lines and wrinkles, the extra pounds, the grey hairs and depredations that life makes on someone who is 63 years old. I stared at him.

He rocked back in his chair again. “What’s wrong?”

I threw back my head and laughed, hating the sound of my crone’s voice. “What’s wrong?” I said. “Oh, nothing that five years of lying can’t fix. Or thirty years of youth, whichever comes first.” And I looked down at the table again, waiting for the accusations, waiting for him to get up and leave.

Instead, he drew my hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Janet, I don’t know what the trouble is, but we have always been there for each other, since the first day I joined Lush. Since that moment when my first story was rejected. I was ready to quit, to crawl back into my self-loathing. Yet, you picked me out of the mental gutter, brushed me off, hugged me, and told me I mattered.

“From that day, I started loving you.”

And he went silent, waiting.

I refused to look at him, thinking I would wait him out.

Finally, he sat forward. “Janet, remember when I first told you I wanted to ravage you? I was feeling sorry for myself, and you not only brought me back to life, but you made me laugh. We chatted for hours.

“And when we were done, I told you I had a massive crush on you, and gave you fair warning that I was going to take you home someday and fuck you silly? And you promised to let me. Remember?

I remained motionless, then finally moved one hand from my head to the table.

“I remember, James. But you’re thirty years too late.”

I raised my head. “Look at me. I’m an old woman.”

He looked at me, long and hard.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I was,” I said. “I was beautiful – once. That photo I sent you? That was me – thirty years ago. I was beautiful then.”

The silence dragged on until I said, “You can leave whenever you want, James.”

“Not until you let me fuck you silly. You promised.”

“Oh, James! I lied to you, don’t you get it? I let you think I was young, I was beautiful, I was sexy.

“I’m not my avatar. Any of them.”

He sat quietly for a long time, then said, “Do you really think so little of me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you ever tell me your age?”

“I…”

“Did you ever tell me you were beautiful?”

“I…”

“And as for sexy – do you remember how many times I’ve said that the biggest sex organ in the body is the brain?”

I slumped back. “All the fucking time.”

“And do you remember when you told me that I’d be disappointed if we ever met?”

“Well, aren’t you?”

He shook his head. “Do you remember what I said in reply?”

I thought for a moment, then shook my head.

“I said, ‘Beauty is as beauty does.’ And I meant it. You have been beautiful to me for more than five years. You have been beautiful for me for that long.

“You are beautiful, Janet. And I love you.”

I stared at him, then, “How the fuck can you love this hulk, when I used to be…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up about ‘used to be’ will you please?”

He leaned forward, gripping both my hands. “Listen to me. It is not your erstwhile, once beautiful body that has charmed me, lifted me up, helped me, encouraged me, and loved me when I was at my most unlovable.

“It was you – the real you, the person inside.

“That’s the person I love.”

“And just for the record, your body, your face, your…” he kissed my hands, “…hands are beautiful. And I’ll bet your cunt is, too, if we can ever kick-start it!”

I stared at him, then threw back my head and roared, as I often had when chatting with him. I laughed for the first time since he’d said he was going to be in the neighbourhood, and reminded me of my promise to let him have me.

He smirked at me. “That’s the Janet I love!”

He stood up, knocking his chair over, reached into his pocket and put some money on the table.

“Come on. We’ve got five year’s worth of fucking to make up!”

I stared at him, then got up and took his hand.

Maybe the day wasn’t going to be so horrible, after all.