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George has had to do some bad things, I know that’s why I’m here, but you can tell from his face he doesn’t really want to, and there are some people out there who don’t do bad things but their faces aren’t kind and you can tell they’d
like
to do bad things but can’t get round to it and I think that’s worse somehow. It’s a nice face and I love the way it smiles. I love his arms. I love his chest. I love his stomach. I love his hands. I love the way he’s got bits of hair growing on his hands. I love his legs, I haven’t seen much of his legs yet, but it’s February and it’s cold and I can’t wait for summer when it gets hot and he’ll get into his shorts. I love his hair, I want to run my fingers through it, I bet it tastes like butterscotch. I don’t just love his body. I love his voice. I love his smell, it’s a nice smell, I can’t work out what it is yet I’ll come back. I love the way he cuts up all my food for me in the kitchen. I love the way when he locks me in my room he smiles first and says good night and then he turns the key quite slowly so that it feels like he doesn’t want to say goodbye yet. I love the way last night we watched
Friends
again and it was a better episode this time, Chandler and Joey were funny and it didn’t have the monkey in it. And George didn’t laugh at it, and nor did I, we let the TV do the laughing work for us. And after
Friends
George turned over and we watched the weather and then a documentary about plastic surgery, I don’t know how people can go through that. And there was a late film and George said did I feel like staying up for it? And I said yes because it was nice just sitting there with him and being close to him and smelling him and I bet his hair tastes like butterscotch. And during the film George leaned over and he kissed me and he said sorry sorry was he being too forward and I said no he wasn’t and he gave me that smile I love and took my hand in his hand with all the hairs on it. And he took me to his bedroom. And I thought it’d be like mine with all the old stripy wallpaper but it wasn’t, there were silks and rugs and mirrors on the ceiling and a big four poster bed. And he put me on the bed and it was the softest bed I’d ever felt and the sheets were like velvet they were like butterscotch. And we made love right there and then he was gentle but not too gentle and he was rough but not too much, he was in me and through me and George was all around me and all about me and there was nothing but George. And then he kissed me on the lips gentle and rough and that was the nicest thing of all and told me I was the best he’d ever had and that was a nice thing to hear because he is George Clooney after all. And then he took me back to my bedroom and said good night and did that slow key thing and I wrote all this. I love you, George. I’d marry you if I weren’t married already.

    I remember what he smells like. It’s sweat. But a nice sweat, I love it.

    George is a bit cross with me and making me write this. He wants me to say that what I wrote last night wasn’t true. Well, some of it’s true, watching
Friends
was true and it didn’t have the monkey in it is true and the plastic surgery documentary is true. But nothing about the sex. George wants me to point that out. He said he’d be in enough trouble as it is for what he’d done without lies, and I said the sex was very loving and he said he didn’t think the police would see it that way. So sorry I made that part up. And he wants me to say I made up the bit about being in love with him too. So sorry I made that up. (But I didn’t, it’s true, I love George Clooney.) And he said what was this about August, it’d all be over long before then, it should be over by now, why wasn’t there anything on the news about it? And that he thought I should take out my pad and my pencil and write a letter to Paul or to Daddy and say what George wanted. He’d written one but