Her instructions are lengthy, hand-written on scented paper in an elegant, flowing hand, neatly divided into sections with headings underlined. The shapes of her letters are striking, some of them perhaps revealing. Her letter ‘y’ sports a long, curled t...
Now, after the beating, my skin is in flames and my mind is in turmoil. I am ashamed I allowed it and proud that I did. I am humiliated and yet I am honoured. I am afraid and yet I am eager. I have crossed my boundary, and she has crossed hers. She does n...
M's is a pretty, detached house, tucked away behind a high hedge in a tree-lined street.I ring the bell precisely at the agreed time. I've timed the walk well from the side street where I parked and waited, watching the hand creep round on my watch, deter...
Some days went by after the meeting. Days when I held in my mind her face, her voice, her words, her tone, her assurance, her nuances of expression, the look on her face as she spoke. Days when I was sure that I'd failed, then hopeful I had not.Days when...
Long weeks have passed since the first time we met.She chose the time and the place. A cafe terrace overlooking the lake. It would be cold, she said, I should wrap up, but on a chill winter weekday there would be few people around, and we could speak free...
