I began to unbutton his fly, but Bastiaan covered my hand and lifted it to his mouth. He kissed. ‘Are you sure?’ I said. He smiled. ‘It is one of those things that has suffered in translation.’ ‘What is?’ ‘The idea that fucking is the most important thing.’ I loved that he said fucking. My favourite English word, he’d told me. ‘But isn’t it the most important thing?’ He shook his head. ‘I used to think so.’ ‘What changed?’ ‘Your pleasure. It is something I can see, and feel on my skin. I can smell it and taste it and hear it.’ ‘You might not be the only one.’