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pretty crap.”
    Well yes, no argument out of me on that one. But looking into the empty, hopeless eyes of the Leeds vagrants I think there’s crap, which is me a lot of the time, and there’s absolute total shit. I hug Nathan back.
    Then, another of his mercurial changes of mood. “So tell me, Miss Byrne. Sorry, Dr Byrne—do you still have those cute little lacy knickers on?”
    “What? No!”
    “No knickers? Dr Byrne, you shock me.”
    “Idiot. No. Different ones. These are pink.”
    “Ah, gorgeous. I do like you in pink, sets off your gorgeous red hair. All your red hair. Everywhere. Which reminds me, I intend to remove it for you. I want you nice and smooth.”
    “Remove it? Remove what?”
    “Your hair. Your lovely red pubic hair, Miss Byrne.”
    “What, tonight? Why? How?”
    “Not tonight. Best not to get too near your sweet little fanny with sharp implements after half a bottle of wine. Might damage something precious. Tomorrow, though.”
    I’m puzzled, but what the hell? “Okay, if you want to. But why?”
    “Because it’s so pretty afterwards. And so erotic while I’m doing it. And when I say I want you naked, Eva, I mean properly naked.”
    “How will you do it?” I think of the sharp implements. “Will you shave it off?”
    “No. Too bristly and scratchy. I’m thinking a nice wax job. Smarts a bit, but very effective.”
    “Waxing! There! You’re joking. What about cream?”
    “We haven’t known each other that long, I do realise, but have you ever known me to joke about what I intend to do to you, Miss Byrne?”
    “Er, no…”
    “No. And cream’s not safe to use on genitals. Must think of your health and safety, Dr Byrne. So a Brazilian wax then? Tomorrow. Agreed?”
    It does indeed seem to be settled. “I… I suppose so. Does it hurt a lot?”
    “Not too much. If I do it quick. And I’ve done much, much worse to you already. You’ll be fine with this. Don’t look so worried.” His hand on my bum takes my mind off tomorrow’s events, reminding me there are more immediate matters to attend to.
    We continue to stroll in the direction of the waterfront once more, and arrive back at Nathan’s apartment around midnight. As soon as the lift doors close he is on me, kissing me, exploring my mouth with his tongue while pulling my shirt from my pants. Deftly undoing the buttons, before I know it he has my hands caught behind my back, tangled in the sleeves. Lifting his head to glance appreciatively at my new, pink lacy bra he cups my breasts, squeezing gently, lowering his head to kiss the mounds visible above the lace. “So sweet, Eva, so pretty,” he breathes, and I vaguely wonder if he means my underwear or my body. Who cares? He flicks open the front fastening of my bra to bare my breasts for his ministrations. With his mouth and clever fingers my nipples are brought to swollen, aching hardness before the lift arrives at the penthouse, and the doors glide open.
    It’s only when he takes my elbow to tug me forward into the apartment that I realise my hands are effectively tied behind my back, still caught up in my discarded blouse. I wriggle, trying to free myself so I can kiss him back, hold him, but he smiles down, knowingly. I realise he’s done this on purpose. And that he won’t free me until he’s good and ready. After dropping a light kiss on my lips, he opens the door to the apartment and gestures for me to enter before him.
    Once inside, Nathan leaves me standing, topless, in the middle of his living room as he goes over to the fridge. Pulling out a chilled bottle of wine he quickly uncorks it and pours one glass. Strolling back towards me, the glass in his right hand, his eyes are on my breasts, admiring, lustful. I realise my usual inhibitions might be diminishing, but have not yet disappeared as I wish I was better endowed, curvier. Nathan doesn’t seem to mind, though, as with his free left hand he cups and massages my breast whilst he reaches with his right