I told her about my job in the advertising agency, writing copy for products most people never needed. I told her about my flat, my break up with Lind... and, well, everything. She listened as we talked. It wasn’t a monologue about me. She interspersed my account with snippets about herself and her separation from Stella. It was easy, comfortable and she revealed a sense of humour that reminded me so much of Bacall. Her hand tightened on mine. ‘I’m not her, you know.’ Now of course, I knew that. Bad idea. I got too wasted. I-i dont think Ill be able to g-go home like this. I feel queasy, I said. Well, Ill take you to my house, you can spend the night, he replied. Oh yay a sleepver, thatll be fun, I said almost passing out. Alright, I needa get you outta here and into a comfortable bed to sleep in, he exclaimed. He picked me up in his muscular arms. I can feel them tightening under me, which turned me on slightly, but I was too drunk to pay attention to it. I woke up in an unfamiliar. More

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