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a . . . I mean, this is a real relationship, Nikki, and I want it to be, well, real . You know what I’m saying? Nikki? Nikki!
    Having joined the assembly line of Colin Addison’s student shags, I suppose I ought to be pleased to be elevated to the status of bona fide lover. But somehow, no.
    — Nikki!
    — What? I groan, turning around in bed and sitting up, pulling my hair from my face. — What are you going on about? If you can’t shag me, at least let me get some sleep. I’ve got a class in the morning and I’ve got to work at that fucking sauna again tomorrow night.
    Colin’s now sitting on the edge of the bed, breathing slowly. As I watch his shoulders move up and down, he seems to me like a peculiar wounded animal in the dark, unsure of whether to counter-attack or beat a retreat. — I don’t like you working there, he exhales in those petulant, possessive tones that have become so him recently.
    And now I’m thinking, this is it, this is my time. The weeks of deference finally building up into that couldn’t-give-a-toss critical mass, where you know you’re finally empowered enough to just tell them to fuck off. — That sauna probably represents my best chance of getting properly fucked right now, I coolly explain.
    The cold silence in the air and the stillness of Colin’s dark contour tells me that I’ve hit the spot and finally got through. Then he suddenly moves, jerky and tense, over to the armchair where his clothes sit. He starts scrambling into them. There’s a thud of a foot on something in the dark, a chair leg or maybe the edge of the bed, and it’s followed by a cat’s spit of a ‘fuck’. He is in haste to depart as he normally showers first, for Miranda, but this time no fluids have been spilt so he may be okay. At least he’s had the decency not to put on the light, for which I’m grateful. As he tugs himself into his jeans, I admire his arse, probably for the last time. Impotence is bad and clinginess is awful, but the two in tandem simply can’t be tolerated. The idea of becoming a nurse to this old fool is repulsive. Pity about that arse, I’ll miss it. I always did like a good, firm arse on a man.
    — There’s no reasoning with you when you’re like this. I’ll call you later, he puffs, pulling on his jersey.
    — Don’t bother, I say icily, pulling up the quilt to cover my tits. I think about why I feel the need to do this as he’s sucked them, had his cock between them, fondled, groped, mashed and eaten them with my blessing and in some cases instigation. Why then is such a casual glance in semi-darkness so violating? The answer has to be that my essence is telling me that we are history, Colin and I. Yes, it is that time.
    — What?
    — I said don’t bother. Calling me later. Don’t fucking well bother, I tell him, and I’m wishing I had a cigarette. I feel like asking him for one but it somehow seems inappropriate.
    He turns round to face me and I can see that silly moustache which I always begged him to shave off and his mouth under it, again illuminated by a glimmer of silver light through the blind, with his eyes above concealed in darkness. The mouth is telling me: — Right, fuck you then! You’re a silly wee lassie, Nikki, an arrogant little cow. You think you’re it at the moment, girl, but you’re going to have big fucking problems in your life if you don’t grow up and join the rest of the human race.
    There’s a battle going on in my soul between outrage and humour, with neither prepared to concede supremacy to the other. In this dissonant state it’s all I can do to cough out: — Like you? Don’t make me laugh . . .
    But Colin’s off and the bedroom door slams, followed by the front door. My body starts to unravel in relief till I irksomely remember that it needs to be double-locked. Lauren is very security-conscious and in any case she’ll be far from amused as our row must have interrupted her sleep. The varnished floorboards in the