Your hand is around my throat, already I am gasping with a small sense of satisfaction. You slap my face hard, I look wounded and have tears in my eye..., you can see the pain in there, but it is not a window into me, if it were you would be blinded. “Again.” I plead, and you continue to slap me until I am wailing and writhing around, my hips rising up for something that is yet to come. You like what you do to me, it makes you feel like a great lover, and “that” you are, you are also a good. A pale sun had risen but the day was still chilly as I scrolled to GR and pressed the call button. I heard only one ring and then a breathless, husky voice: ‘Oh, thank God, Richard. Thanks for calling. Where are you?’ ‘I’m at home. I’ve just got up and . . .’ ‘You got my text,’ Veronica cut in. ‘Is it safe for you to talk there? I mean, where’s Veronica?’ ‘She’s still in bed and I’m outside in the garden. Don’t worry about that. What’s the panic?’ ‘I do worry about that. I don’t want any. More

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