One hand holds a pencil but he's not working on his notes anymore than I am. His fingers continue to trace a path up the smooth flesh of my thigh, wor...ing their way unhurriedly towards my skirt's hemline. It's summer, my legs are bare and I kicked off my Havanas half an hour ago. I can feel my own hands beginning to shake. A warm palm presses down on my skin. I glance across at him and he's staring at me. Behind us, the shuffle of shoes indicates we are not alone. Someone is making their way in. I could make out some of what she was saying. ‘I’m sorry. I thought she was my friend but she lied to me. Why did she do that to me? I’m Sorry. How can you ever forgive me? Why did she do that to me?’ After that June got a completely incoherent and I got really worried. When we got home I called the doctor. He came around almost straight away, it appeared he was aware of some of the weekend’s events. He gave June a jab that knocked out and he told me she should be out until about six or seven. More

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