I didn’t like you when I never realised this was possible.
I wasn’t interested until I found out this couldn’t happen.
I want to tempt you but not lead you astray;
To steal what you want to give away.

If you’d hadn’t told me then I wouldn’t care, wouldn’t consider, wouldn’t think of this as anything.
It’s only because I know I can that I’m desperate for the taste of you.



Credible deception needs more honesty than mistruth.

Sour Grapes

Before the waiter left the table, Mark quickly changed Abby’s order from the house Chardonnay to the Chablis. 

At first his propensity to make these small amendments had been flattering. It was like he wanted her to have the more expensive things on the menu, the nicer room at the hotel, the better taxi service to take her home. She thought that he wanted the best for her. After a while, he was changing everything that she’d chosen.

Abby had always known that financially she couldn’t sustain an affair. Her and Robert were saving for a house deposit and she knew that he was prepping for a proposal. He would often turn to her in the kitchen, mouth agape, eyes fixed on her in a still frenzy, before asking some inane question about the freshness of the fridge contents. She loved Robert. He was tender, thoughtful and kind. He was loved by her family, her friends and he was marriage material: dependable, loyal and full of love for her. She hadn’t intended to start an affair, but when Mark took her out for a drink three months ago and asked her outright whether she wanted to join in him an adulterous escapade, she said yes.

Now here she was, in a wine bar near Covent Garden having her wine order changed by her dallier just to reflect his status. 

“It’s the same thing really. Almost all of the grapevines in Chablis are Chardonnay”.

“I know”, said Mark, “But why bother with the same old shit when you can have something special?”

Abby was going to say that she liked Chardonnay. She felt comfortable with the flavour and was able to discern it easily on her palate. She just looked back down at the menu and resigned herself to finishing the glass before the starters arrived.


Anna persistently twisted her hair as she sat on the end of the bed. Her eyes, naturally big, were fixed on the floor. She had been awake all night, but she had the rare beauty which meant that a night without sleep made her look younger, more naive, instead of fatigued. She hadn’t cleaned her teeth since the morning before and she could feel the sugar crystallising around her gums. She rubbed her legs together and felt the faint regrowth on her shins. 

She began to fantasise about being the shower; the water weighing down her hair, pulling her head back. The smell of tea tree overwhelming her senses as she lathered shower gel generously over her skin.

Ben, still passed out behind on the bed behind her, twitched and broke her out of her reverie. 

She hadn’t intended last night to go as far as it did. She liked being the centre of attention, being desired and stared at. She wanted people to look at her; wanted the boys to want her, the girls to hate her, for them all to wonder what it would be like to fuck her. But she hadn’t meant to end the night with Ben. 

“You only want me because you know you can’t have me”, she’d said to him last night, as he lifted her off the floor and thrust her against the wall.

Furtively, she felt her neck and winced as her fingers found the impression of Ben’s teeth. She traced the indentation as though attempting to read Braille and held her breath as she dug her nails in.  

With the surreptitious skill of Parisian thief, she moved about the room collecting her clothes.

As Anna stepped out into the pale, naked light of the early December morning, she regretted the previous evenings choice of outfit. She struggled to light a cigarette as the icy air numbed her fingers.

She thought about what she’d say: where she’d been, who with, doing what, who else was there… the questions, she knew, had already been set up and would hit like a cannonade as she walked through the door.

Despite the cold she walked slowly in the direction of her house.


i’m selfish. i don’t care that much about other people. frankly, they annoy the shit out of me.

there’s a girl sat near me now and she has this fucking awful cough, like it sounds as though some poor creature crawled down her throat and is slowly dying and she scream that it utters as it fights for its miserable life is amplified because it’s stuck in the chasm of her throat. she’s been coughing for days and i want to defenestrate my laptop, using the window next to where she is sat so she can watch is tumble, effortlessly, the 24 storeys to the ground, see it fall like a shot pheasant and be obliterated on the ground, and then feel the kick on the back of her chair before finding herself in the laptops shoes.

i offered her some water instead.