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dense pubic forest to finish in a tapering point at his navel. Without further prompting Adam threw off his pullover and, with a little annoyance, the T-shirt that lay demurely underneath. Fox pushed Adam’s jeans and pants further down his legs, gently but urgently, then folded him in his arms and said, in a hoarse whisper, ‘Lie down.’
    It was more like falling down, collapsing in a heap. Fox pressed his chest, belly and sturdy cock against Adam’s and for a moment Adam could not tell which bits of warm softness and warm hardness belonged to Fox and which to himself. Then, before either of them could decide what to move next, Adam came in a series of wrenching spurts. He felt as if an artery were bursting inside him. Seconds later Fox’s convulsive tremor and involuntary gasp told him that he had got there too and their bodies seemed to float together in a state of sudden lubrication like high-friction machine parts in their bath of oil.
    There was a stillness. Fox showed no sign of moving off Adam now their spontaneous eruptions were over and for quite a time they looked each other steadily in the face. Adam already knew that when you first have sex with someone you know, a seismic change occurs in the room that that relationship inhabits: Furniture flies around; pictures fall from the walls. It takes some time for things to settle down again in their new places. He remembered the shock, the initial recoil that followed when he first did it with Michael, and as he gazed thoughtfully at Fox he wondered how soon this next reaction was going to kick in. But it didn’t. Perhaps Adam had already been through that phase at the time of their first encounter, when his mood had swung vertiginously between excitement and horror for the best part of a week. This moment, by contrast and to his surprise, seemed to be laying things to rest, picking up the furniture and the dropped pictures, dusting them down and replacing them in a satisfactory place. Or perhaps there was nothing to rearrange. Maybe that was what happened when you had sex with strangers: there was no dislocation, nothing to rearrange, because there was nothing in position in the first place. Adam pondered this as he looked up at Fox’s shyly mischievous face.
    ‘ You look so serious,’ said Fox. ‘You could smile, you know.’ Adam did, but he kept on staring into Fox’s face, at the snub nose, the wide, sensual mouth and the brown eyes that seemed to express bewilderment and amusement in equal measure. How could you read a twenty-year-old’s eyes – if twenty was indeed Fox’s age – when you yourself were only sixteen? And if the older person were soft in the head, or retarded in some way, as Adam’s father had intimated, did that make it easier or more difficult? So far, Fox’s words and behaviour had suggested an age of more like fourteen than twenty. Perhaps that was how Adam ought to treat him; it would be relatively easy and an attractive prospect too: a mental age of fourteen – an age Adam had experienced already and knew how to deal with – attached to a physique equipped with all the strength and adornments of a full-grown man. ‘How old are you?’ Adam asked.
    ‘ Twenty-two,’ said Fox.
    Adam thought about this for a moment. Then, ‘Can I get up now?’ he heard himself say. ‘I really do have to pee.’
    ‘ You won’t run away again, like last time?’ Fox queried.
    Adam did not answer and a moment later Fox slid off him. Adam rolled away a quarter turn and emptied his bladder onto the grass but then he rolled back again and for a few moments they lay side by side, still naked from the knees up, contemplating the sky through the bare trees.
    ‘ You have a funny accent,’ said Fox.
    ‘ You said that before.’ Adam did not try to conceal his weariness of the remark. ‘I told you before, I’m English.’
    ‘ Why?’
    ‘ Why am I English?’ Adam’s mental circuitry blew a fuse.
    ‘ Why are you in France?’
    ‘ If that’s