"Tomorrow is a Sunday. You can come round to my place at around two in the afternoon. Make sure you have a good rest before that." She poured him a ...rink from the decantor. In an instance she has raised his status to that of a man, a drinking man, a fucking man. Secretly he squeezed his right hand into a fist. Yes, you did it, Bernie Boy. He gulped down his drink and made a hasty retreat, not wanting to make a fool of himself by exhibiting too much jubilation.He lied in bed, thinking about. With a sudden heat, it struck me that her body was inches from mine, shifting to match the distribution of my weight. My blood ran faster at the sight of her posing, absentmindedly, to my body. ‘Just stay there for a minute.’ she said. ‘What are you working on?’ I asked her, trying to catch her eye. ‘Collar bones.’ she said again. Then she caught the repetition herself, and smiled. ‘It’s a new sculpture. I wanted to do something bigger.’ The words weren’t getting her full attention, but they. More

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