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his garments along with hers, he lay back down next to her, drawing her into his arms. His warm kisses sent traces of fire through her body as their fingers explored every inch of each other and her body arched up against his.
    She could feel his breath quickening, his voice a breathless whisper in her ear. “Don’t move. I hate the damn things, but better to play it safe.”
    He might as well have shouted, for it was like having a bucket of water thrown over her. Her whole body tensed up with the implication of his words. She felt so naïve not to have even given it a thought up until now. David obviously had, his expertise revealing itself as he gently maneuvered his position.
    It made her go numb within. Being protected against pregnancy wasn’t the main concern here; there was a far greater danger and David wasn’t taking any chances. It made her feel cheap.
    They knew nothing about each other. For all she knew, he could have half a dozen women he bedded regularly. She was merely another notch on his manhood. He certainly had all the right seduction techniques, the silent I’m-a-no-strings macho type, this room and condoms at the ready.
    “Chantelle, are you okay?” He stopped caressing her and leaned on one elbow, frowning down at her.
    “I’m sorry, this is a mistake.” She forced the words out, unsure of his reaction. He had every right to be angry. She had led him on. They were at the point of having sex and now, unaccountable it must seem to him, she had changed her mind.
    A dark shadow did come over his features. The warmth in his eyes vanished as if he now saw her in a different light, but he said nothing. In one swift movement, he swung his body off her and stood up, placing his back to her.
    It was then that she noticed his shoulder, having only felt the uneven texture beneath her fingers. The four-inch scar stood out against the bronze hue of his shoulder blade; the thin white line was pitted with fading stitch marks on either side of it, revealing how recent it was. She wanted to know how he had come by such an ugly scar in what was otherwise a perfect body. Strangely, she felt it was connected to violence and maybe wise not to ask. Still the question left her lips.
    “Chantelle, we know so little about each other and maybe it’s best we keep it that way,” he said coldly, impassively. He didn’t even turn around, just strolled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
    Chantelle pulled the covers up around her, wanting to cry but refusing to succumb. Why couldn’t she have simply given herself to him and lived for the moment, like her mother had tried to instill in her, instead of acting like some virginal tease? He was the first man to come along who was capable of arousing such feelings and she had ruined it without ever discovering if he lived up to the promise. Perhaps that was what scared her, the release of her passion and with it, a part of herself she couldn’t merely switch on and off, not like David. She had seen it in his eyes, such intimacy and desire turning to coldness and indifference.
    ***
    Stepping out of the bathroom after a long shower, David picked up his clothing, which lay scattered about the room. At the same time, he picked up Chantelle’s shorts and T-shirt and placed them on a chair. Rubbing a towel over his hair and combing it back, he finished dressing. The whole time, Chantelle remained entirely hidden beneath the covers, a mass of russet hair pushed up against the pillow.
    “I’m going down to the bar for a bite to eat; do you want to join me?” He let out a disgruntled sigh at her silence and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
    The bar area was empty except for one bored young girl whose expression suddenly changed as she accepted his order with a wide smile. She took the money and noted, “You must have needed that. Usually it’s a whisky chaser, not the other way around.”
    He didn’t return her smile. Feeling that he could do without cheeky