George Pierce waited impatiently by the front desk of the swimming pool, trying to persuade the receptionist to call the manager so that he could dete...mine if Amanda was still on the premises. His wife Joanna had promised to delay dinner for as long as possible but having stood waiting for nearly an hour, he realised it would probably be burnt to a cinder by the time he returned home. He was slightly annoyed that his daughter had not phoned to inform him of her whereabouts. He'd tried calling. Entertaining. Fun. She sent a visceral horniness flowing to my balls. But the comfy personal warmth I knew with Martha and Ronnie, and even Anita, was missing entirely.By eight-thirty I returned to Martha's. She wasn't home. I brought a cup of tea and a pack of cigarettes with me to the front steps of the building. I lit up and sat and waited. I said aloud, as if Fiore were there watching me, "Yes, I know: exactly what I'm not supposed to be doing." I finished the tea and brought the cup. More

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