He poured two very full glasses of red wine that was so dark, it was nearly black. He handed her a glass. "A tradition from my culture. Either you'll ...ind me so irresistible that the wine will ease your nerves, or you'll fall asleep. And, then, I must wait... and try harder."Flora giggled, though mostly out of nervousness. "Is that true?" I swear it," he said.She sipped at the drink, expecting something syrupy. Instead, it was delightfully crisp, fermented from a fruit she hadn't ever tasted. They had very similar tastes in most things, but on computers they begged to differ, she was bored, he was in seventh heaven. They had been married for nearly ten years, having met when still in their teens. Rachel had trained as a beauty consultant and worked part time in a large city-centre store. Paul was a writer, an unpublished novelist who made a living by penning the words spoken week after interminable week by soap actors. There had been other boy friends before Paul, at least a couple. More

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