Rohan smelled of smoke but Radha did not care. She moved her hands to his crotch as they kept smooching. Their lips interwined. Salivas were exchanged... Rohan pulled the strings of the bathrobe as it came off Radha’s body. Rohan’s hands reached for Radha’s perfect breasts. Cupping and pressing them, he went for her neck with his mouth. As soon as she kissed her on her neck, Radha went out of control. She went down on her knees and unbotten his trousers. He was not wearing anything under it. His. Jazz and poetry in a basement one day, Chinese ceramics in a gallery the next. There came a time (I still feel sick as I remember it) when I waited in the coffee bar on City Square and had our table to myself, day after day. A time when I phoned and no-one answered. In the end, the time when I received a letter posted in Mexico. There was no return address. I threw it into the fire so I would not pore over it, then spent stupid weeks trying to find significance in a book she had given me not. More

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