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legs. For such a thin girl she was remarkably heavy when she relaxed.
    ‘It’s lunch time, anyway,’ said Fiorella, giving him the benefit of the doubt after summing up the Rosemary situation. ‘We’ll stop there, folks. The afternoon session will start at two.’
    ‘What are you doing for lunch?’ Nathan asked Tiffany.
    ‘The takeaway. Xanthi does very good fish and chips,’ she replied.
    ‘Mind if I join you?’
    ‘Not at all.’
    Boris was a write-off. Not worth thinking about any more. He was the local beach bum, had nothing to offer beyond a sexy body. Men like Boris never fancied girls like her and that was immutable. Allowing him entry into her heart was inviting heartache — one-sided, secret heart-ache. Stupid, unnecessary and avoidable.
    Nathan called, ‘We’re off to the takeaway. Anyone like to join us?’
    ‘Not me, thanks,’ Boris said. ‘Got things to do at home.’
    His gaze passed over her like a shadow, flitting by in a second, touching her briefly, darkening her world with his indifference.
    Good. He wouldn’t be there smiling at her with those lips she knew were capable of great tenderness. He wouldn’t look at her with those eyes that caused her insides to melt away and her knees to shake; instead he looked at her without care or intention or probably even awareness. He wouldn’t be there taunting her with that sexy swagger and that casual but oh-so-devastating distance. If she could survive this afternoon then she’d never lay eyes on him again.
    Thunder rumbled ominously after lunch. Somewhere out to sea a storm had been brewing and now, ready for action, raced headlong for land. Gigantic clouds loomed on the horizon, piling up thick and dark. They hadn’t yet reached the coast, but by the time two o’clock rolled around the blue skies to the north east had completely disappeared under a billowing grey mass.
    The heat outside was oppressive but Fiorella had a portable air conditioner running on full when the group, perspiring, hot and sticky, reconvened. Boris hadn’t returned.
    Fiorella said, ‘We put everything we’ve learnt today into our final session. We really let ourselves go — within the bounds of decency.’ She paused for the laughs to subside. ‘I want you to use lips, tongues, breathing, sighing, moaning, the works. Let your partner know by your touch that he or she is getting it right. Start gently, explore, learn about yourself, learn about your partner. Listen, feel, give, relax, breathe and above all enjoy.’
    Fiorella picked up the first name. The door opened and Boris sidled in. He stayed where he was, leaning against the wall by the door watching the draw. Tiffany realised she was holding her breath and let it go as quietly as possible. She wiped her palms surreptitiously on the leg of her cotton pants, keeping her eyes fixed on Fiorella.
    ‘Nathan and Rosemary.’
    She didn’t dare look at Boris. Would he be disappointed?
    ‘Domenic and Josie.’ Perfect.
    ‘Wanda and Boris. That leaves Andrew with Marianne.’
    ‘Our first time,’ said Andrew. Tiffany smiled and rearranged her pillow to accommodate Andrew’s sleeping bag.
    She couldn’t look at Boris and Wanda, even though they were right in the next nest chatting quietly as they made themselves comfortable on the tartan blanket and Wanda’s quilt.
    ‘If you prefer you can lie down,’ suggested Fiorella. ‘Whatever suits you best. Remember —start slow.’
    Tiffany stayed sitting. Andrew began running his lips over her cheek. Nothing. She returned the kiss gently. Nothing. Andrew continued slowly, moving towards her mouth, nibbling gently, she smiled, breathed and murmured.
    ‘Mmm.’ Textbook kisses. Andrew had learned well.
    ‘Aaaah,’ he sighed. She parted her lips slightly and allowed him to explore further.
    ‘Mmmmm,’ she said, eyes closed, concentrating.
    It started to rain. One-by-one big drops plopped onto the corrugated iron roof. A gigantic crack of thunder right overhead