The window buzzed like a hornet, thundering with the anger of traffic crossing the overpass that lurked close on the other side. That hotel, dreadful for almost everything, was perfect for us.

All we needed was the light from the motorway. And the noise.

I stepped over to my open bag.

‘Now, tell me once more why we’re here.’

Face down on the bed; your naked buttocks flinched at my words. They looked twenty years younger than your tear-streaked face.

‘I bullied her, Sir. Incessantly.’

You held your silence at the first strike of the leather strap.

That wouldn’t last.