Veronica was staying there for the latter end of the season, invited by friends of friends to house sit. She spent her days swimming and reading, flopping from her bed to the pool and back again, her skin turning slowly from city grey to rejuvenated white, as she relaxed, then from white to pink, as the sun’s rays spread into her, warming her to her core. She was feeling better than when she arrived, but still desolate as yet another relationship had fallen apart. The villa allowed her to live naked, a timid Eve in an empty garden devoid of fig and apple trees, or even snakes, for that matter. read more

It came between cunnilingus and orgasm. Does it matter if he tastes a little wee? Does my partner have to scream? And I just threw up the fader on music - REM, Everybody Hurts - and sagged in a heap in my swivel chair. read more

I’ve spent 20 hours of my life on the Greyhound bus, traveling from Washington DC to Columbia, Missouri. The Greyhound is an extreme experience. I passed through more blank land than I’ve ever seen in my life, and I was simultaneously connected to and isolated from other people as a transient panorama of humanity unfolded in front of me. read more

I love it when she bends over. Her rump presented to me – a ball waiting to be pawed and nosed about the garden. It jiggles slightly, as she pushes herself back up, rippling outwards beneath the worn cotton, stretched so tight across the curve… read more

In Derek's little bedroom, sex can be kind of boring – but it is also very weird… read more