In the shower

“OK that’s it. Thank you very much.” Julia finished the aerobics class and switched off her ghetto blaster. The ten girls who comprised the class dispersed, chatting, to the edges of the gymnasium, picked up their various bags and clothes and began to drift out of the room. Julia followed them carrying her own clothes and bag, and of course her cassette player. The people who had been waiting outside started to drift in, awaiting the start of their own class (karate). Looks were exchanged between the fit men in white suits and sweaty girls in leotards and leg warmers.

Julia was vaguely chatting with one of the girls on their way to the changing rooms when she noticed the tall man leaning against the wall. He started walking towards them, smiling at Julia. She smiled a big smile back at him.

“Hi” she stopped walking.

“Hi” he replied.

Julia turned to the girl she had been talking to “See you downstairs.”

The girl carried on walking, but grinned over her shoulder as she paused to open the door to the stairwell. The man had walked up to Julia, not stopping until they were very close. The girl just had time to see Julia brushing the man’s left arm with her right hand as she walked through the doorway and down the stairs.

“I thought I was going to see you downstairs” Julia said, after brushing the man’s arm.

“I thought I’d see you upstairs” he replied. “Would you care to join me for the next shower?” he asked, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows questioningly.

Julia felt a tingling sensation growing between her legs, and realised it had been there since she had first noticed Michael leaning against the wall. He had this effect on her. She felt herself blushing slightly as she blinked slowly in reply to his offer.

They linked arms and walked down the stairs. Michael had not offered to carry any of her stuff, but Julia needed no help - she could manage the cassette player and her bag in her strong left hand. A problem from reality penetrated her suddenly dreaming state of consciousness.

“Where can we take a shower?”

“The men’s should be empty now.”

“Oh. I thought you were going to perform in front of my class!” She giggled at the arch expression he turned to her. They descended one flight of stairs and walked to the door of the men’s changing room. Michael went inside to check, then came out and led her in. Julia was slightly worried that one of her class might have seen her going in.

Julia took off her shoes and socks, peeled off the bikini and lycra pieces that she wore for her class, picked up her shampoo and walked around the partition that separated the showers from the rest of the changing room.

“They have curtains in the women’s.” Michael did not reply: he was still undressing.

The showers were newly installed hi-tech and reached a usable temperature almost immediately. Julia flicked her head into a forward lean, carrying her long hair to hang down in front of her. She moved towards the shower slightly, until she could feel the full force on the back of her head, finding herself thinking about Michael and her previous lovers. Julia was a member of the AIDS generation and did not wish to have very many boyfriends. Julia counted three and snorted with her eyes closed, her hair becoming heavy with water, as she considered a fourth. Whether he counted or not depended on what constituted a full boyfriend. Michael was something of an enigma to her. After four weeks, they had had sex and slept together six times, usually at her place, but once at his. Julia lathered her hair, remembering with a placid smile. Michael was interesting in bed, and good. He had learnt his basics from an older woman, as he had told her when she had asked him after their second session. Out of bed, he was charming, witty, even amusing, yet somehow empty. Today she would find out if there was anything there. The vision of a professional, emotionless, machine human made her shiver as she rinsed her hair.

Julia began to wash her body, looking at herself with pride. Aerobicide she called it, but it did the job. Fitting herself to a stereotype? See me in the shower and die fat you cow. I heart my shape. She had finished and was wondering about Michael just as he walked across the white tiles towards her. He held his erect penis in his right hand to stop it waving about painfully as he walked. Julia noticed that the condom covering his penis was quite thick.

Michael took the shampoo container from Julia and squirted a blob onto his right hand. He stood to the right of her, so that she had to twist to reach his mouth with hers. As their tongues and lips kissed he rubbed her breasts with his right hand. Julia passed her right arm around his waist, resting her hand on his left buttock as he started to kiss her neck and his hand moved lower. She had begun to hold and stroke his right forearm as he played with her vagina, when she felt his left hand soaping her anus.

A finger on Michael’s right hand started flicking and rubbing her soapy clitoris as a finger on his left hand slowly worked into her anal canal. Julia gripped his left buttock with her right hand spasmodically and held his right hand between her legs with her left hand, when she turned her open mouth towards him his open mouth covered it. Once he had pushed the middle finger of his left hand fully into her anus Michael began to move it in a circle, whilst gradually increasing the speed of his right finger. After a few rotations Michael pulled away from the kiss and removed his left finger, Julia knew what was next.

Without removing his right hand from her vagina Michael moved behind Julia. She moved her legs just a little wider and leaned forwards, her right hand reaching for support on the tiled wall. Julia felt Michael’s finger as he located her anus, then put the tip of his penis there. With his hand Michael guided the head of his penis into Julia, who hoped that the sound of her gasp was covered by the noise of the shower. As he began thrusting and withdrawing, each thrust going a little deeper, he forgot his right hand. Julia pressed the fingers to her vagina to remind him, and they started circling dextrously.

As Michael established his penis deep in Julia’s anus he no longer guided it with his left hand, preferring to grip her left hip for purchase. His right hand too changed position, instead of circling he inserted one finger into Julia’s vagina, cleverly rubbing her clitoris with another. Julia found she could balance without her hand on the wall and grabbed at Michael’s right buttock, leaving her left hand pressing on his right hand. Julia arched her neck back to allow the water falling from the shower to stimulate her neck and breasts, and rocked her hips to push herself against his right hand. The soap in her anus lubricated Julia well and Michael’s penis was still pumping into her vigorously as she had her first orgasm.

She came once more before Michael’s climax, which was signalled by a change in his breathing and a quickening of pace. Julia twisted her head around and they made a long kiss, causing Michael another spasm which excited her, before he parted her buttocks and withdrew his penis. Michael removed the intact condom and tied a knot in the end then turned the shower off. They walked out of the shower holding each other. He went to the toilet cubicles and dropped the condom into the pan, then Julia heard Michael urinate loudly as she pulled her towel out of her bag and began to dry herself.

She heard the lavatory flush and turned to the door smiling, but Michael came out without looking at her. He walked over to where his clothes lay on the floor and stood flicking water off his shivering limbs. Julia felt like asking him what was so interesting about his clothes that he had to stand and stare down at them like that. Instead she took two steps to him, quietly, and wrapped the towel around his chest and back with her arms. Julia held the towel on him, rubbing and drying, whilst she moved around in front of Michael to kiss him on the lips. After a quick peck she let the towel fall, put her arms around his neck, and opened her mouth to kiss him properly. Julia pressed her body against Michael’s as they kissed. Michael returned the kiss, but not the passion. He held her body but did not hug her.

Julia released his mouth, opened her eyes and looked into Michael’s face. He seemed nervous, uncertain. Gone was the bravado of the invitation upstairs, spent?

“We ought to be going you know.” he said quietly, as though regretting having to allow practical matters to intrude.

“Mmmm.” Julia moved her body against his. “But you have this effect on me.”

Michael turned his head to hide his smile at the compliment. “Come on.” he mumbled.

“Okay.” Julia stepped back, her arms raised in a gesture of surrender which also released him physically. She made a wan smile and turned her back to pull her knickers on.

In the bus

They walked to the Underground, only to find that a security alert had closed their destination station. A helpful member of staff at the station directed them to a bus stop, where they waited with other frustrated passengers. Michael seemed annoyed.

“I hate the bus.” he muttered. “It’s so intimate.”

Julia squeezed his hand to comfort him. His grumpiness seemed genuine, but Julia was speculating it was just another of his entertaining routines. He had so many routines, and witticisms and well articulated arguments, all useful social tools, that Julia had wondered if there was anything else to Michael. So far they had not spent enough time awake together for his supply to be exhausted. To find out Julia had proposed that they should spend more time together. That had been last night and she could remember the conversation.

They had just finished a second session of lovemaking. Michael lay on his back staring into space, his left arm encircling Julia’s shoulders. She lay on her right side, her left arm and left leg thrown across Michael’s chest and loins. It was warm and her duvet was left on the floor were it had tumbled some time ago.

“Another week.” Julia said, apparently to Michael’s left nipple.

Michael turned his head to look at the crown of her head. “Mmmm ?”

Julia twisted to look into his face. “We fuck once a week.” She said it without smiling. “That’s all we do.”

Michael made a joke. “We get drunk too.” A weak joke. “It’s a very important part of our relationship.”

Julia stared into his eyes, let his smile finish. “Every time.” Michael blinked to hide his eyes, but she continued “You always do this.” after he opened his eyes again. “Always make a joke or tell a story or something. Never make an answer. Let’s spend some time together.”

“Did you know that The Rolling Stones had to change the chorus of ‘Let’s spend the night together’ to ‘Let’s spend some time together’ for the US market?”

“Were we talking about The Rolling Stones?”

Michael looked away from her then, his body seemed to shrink from her, becoming cold. He was silent. Julia kissed his chest and moved her left leg against him. “What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked, stroking him with her left hand.

“Not much.” he said, still distant.

Julia eased her weight against him more. This had no effect so she climbed on top of him and started playing with his mouth. He kissed back quickly, but Julia insisted on something slower, and longer. She squirmed against him until Michael held her with both arms. They were back together in a naked place.

“Tomorrow. I want to go with you,” she said, “I mean it.” Their eyes were black mirrors.

“Okay.” They made love again and were barely able to pull the duvet back over themselves before falling asleep.

The next morning Michael had mentioned something about some films and a club as he was leaving after swallowing a few glasses of water for breakfast. The arrival of the small bus interrupted her reverie.

She had been standing silently and so had Michael. As they queued onto the bus Julia realised that she had not felt it necessary to smile at Michael after their long silence. Already she felt she was learning about him.

Michael and Julia both had travelcards, they sat down together half way down the bus. As she expected Michael made no move to put his arm around her, or hold her hand or touch her any more than was necessary.

“Fifteen seated six standing.” Michael read a statutory notice quietly. “It’s not a bus it’s a car.” he muttered. “It’s like being in a car with a bunch of people you don’t know. There’s all this shallow friendship, just because we’re crammed in so tight and all facing the same way.” Their shoulders touched as Michael spoke in Julia’s ear, his hands made small expressive gestures. “Someone’s going to sit in this seat right in front of us and start up with one of those fucking games consoles in a minute.”

The last passenger had boarded, it was an old lady carrying shopping. She greeted a similar friend of hers, already seated. “Ooh hello.” “Hello.” “Been shopping?” “Yes. Get it all in for the week - Oh!” The lady made a surprised noise as she sat down heavily next to her friend as the bus moved off. The two of them both laughed at her sudden loss of balance. Julia noticed that Michael had watched the exchange without pleasure.

Michael was shifting his weight uncomfortably. Julia felt it was just for her benefit. Would he have done this had he been alone? A routine of discomfort. She ignored him and looked out of the window.

At the next stop a shabbily dressed man, obviously drunk, put one foot on the bus, as if boarding and asked the driver a question.

“Are you going to Stoke Newington?”

“Where?”

“Stoke Newington.”

“No mate. You want a number ... Stoke Newington? Let’s see now ...” The driver began thinking, routing, but the drunk stopped him.

“Where are you going now? Where are you going?” He stressed the word you.

“Russell Square mate.”

The drunk made a dismissal with his right arm. “Good enough for me mate.” He climbed aboard and began fishing change from his pockets.

“Sixty please.”

The drunk paid, took his ticket and turned to sit down at the front of the bus. A man seated in the second row of seats looked at him with unconcealed disapproval.

“I’ve got a ticket I’ve got just as much right to ride the bus as you.” he said, waving the scrap of paper in the grimacing face. “It’s not just for you and your pretty girlfriend.” He waved the paper briefly at the man’s companion, who looked away. “I’ve got a proper ticket not a travelcard thing.” He turned his back on them. The bus started just as he was sitting, but the noise did not quite cover the sound of the drunk breaking a little wind. The disapproving man might have made a scene, but his girlfriend restrained him, anticipating great embarrassment. She could not completely restrain him however, and half the bus heard him saying “But he ... farted at me!” in an indignant hiss.

Julia had been resting her chin in the palm of her left hand, with her left elbow leaning against the bottom of her window. Now she shifted her hand to cover her mouth hiding her smile which was about to become a laugh. From the corner of her eye she could see Michael. He was looking down towards the front of the bus, past the drunk and the seething man, now in furious whispered conversation with his partner. Michael was trying to maintain a casual, cool expression. The only parts of his face not in keeping were his nose and his eyes. Julia found herself watching every twitch and wrinkle with the same interest a sports fan watches a boxing match. Then Michael caught her looking. That finished him. He had to choke back his laughter, cover his face, look anywhere except at Julia. His restrained laughter was infectious and soon Julia was doing the same. After two minutes she felt she was back in control, she looked at Michael, who felt the same way. They both collapsed again. This went on for several stops. Julia stopped laughing when she noticed what was taking place on the seat in front of them. Michael noticed too.

A young woman with a plastic carrier bug full of shopping was sitting next to the window. Next to her was a young man. The man was being charming, he had asked about her shopping. The woman was feeling intimidated - a complete stranger had sat next to her and started talking to her - but also guilty - he was being polite, after all and had not said anything threatening - also trapped next to the window.

“It’s not very interesting, it’s just shopping.” she said, trying to put him off without being rude.

“Of course it’s interesting. The shopping bag is the soul of the consumer.” The phrase was not his own, he had read it in a book. He had used it a few times with some success.

“This is disinfectant.” She drew out a white box with pale red writing. He held it, allowing his fingers to touch hers, and pretended to read the writing, whilst looking at her legs. “And this is neutraliser.” White box, blue writing, more touching. “It’s for my contact lenses.”

“Oh are they those tinted ones? Let me see.” He leaned over her and moved his head around, peering into her eyes. She avoided his gaze and he took her chin in his right hand. She twisted away, now scared and angry. She decided to get off the bus early, at the next stop. She stood up, not looking at the man, although he was looking at her, all of her, up and down. He moved his legs only a little. She hated the feeling of brushing against him as she was forced to squeeze past. Michael, but not Julia or the man, noticed that she was holding her bag in her left hand, whilst her right hand was inside the bag, fumbling, as she walked down the aisle towards the front of the bus.

“Oh are you getting off here? Me too.” The man stood and followed her.

As she was turning to leave the bus the woman suddenly drew her hand from her bag and pointed it at the man’s face. After a moment he turned away, screaming, his hands and arms tensed in pain. The woman was already running. She had squirted a small quantity of disinfectant straight into his eyes.

Julia closed her eyes and looked away, then opened her eyes. She was looking at Michael’s face. There was a slight grimace of pain there, but he had no trouble watching the scene as the driver, his own face twisted in sympathetic pain, left his seat to approach the injured man.

“Are you alright?” The driver knew it was a stupid thing to say.

“Jesus. Fucking Shit.” was the only reply, then more gasps of pain.

The man sitting behind the drunk looked at the floor. He was unsure of the appropriate reaction. He had heard the conversation. He liked to think of himself as a nineties’ man, he was careful never to be racist or sexist, although he laughed at the Politically Correct. What should his response be? Was the woman’s violence justified? He was scared of violence and hated not knowing what he should be feeling. He dared not look at his companion. Her thoughts were very much the same, although he could not know this. Their morality had not equipped them to function in a hostile environment. They were not to speak until she said to him “This is our stop.” some time later, although later that evening they did recount the story to some friends after dinner. Their friends could not react in the same way that they could not.

Fortunately for all concerned, the drunk took care of the man with disinfectant in his eyes, comforting him by saying: “She was asking for it.” and leading him off the bus.

To Julia it appeared that the incident had washed over Michael. Her own feelings could be summed up in three words: “Right on, sister”.

In the cinema

Julia slipped her right hand around Michael’s left arm as they walked from the bus. Michael pulled her a little closer, and they walked to the cinema arm in arm. In silence.

There was a short queue for tickets when they arrived at the cinema. One man wearing a suit stood out from the crust of ten people, mostly men, in faded, painted combats. Michael outlined his schedule for the rest of the day.

“We’ll leave after the second one; the third one’s shit anyway. We’ll go back to my place, you can dump your stuff,” he pointed at the bag and stereo by Julia’s foot, “then we can go to the pub before heading over to Club Venice.”

Faced with the imposition of such a total plan Julia had a sudden urge to disagree, to find fault. She reminded herself that she had insisted on coming with him. “Okay.” she said.

One of the crusties was arguing with the cashier. “We have to buy separate tickets for each film?” His voice was loud and indignant. “It didn’t say that in the adverts. How were we supposed to know?”

The cashier’s response was not as loud and Julia could not discern the exact words, however the tone was professional, restrained, reasonable yet insistent.

“All right just give me my money back then.”

The crusty accepted the refund crossly and turned to leave, pausing only to protest to the rest of the queue “You have to pay separately for each film.”

There was a slight patter of press-studs being opened. Pound coins were counted and two more crusties left the queue. Michael and Julia moved forwards. Michael leaned his head towards Julia’s right ear. “I bet they’ll end up getting a few ciders in in some local hostelry.”

Julia turned a slightly puzzled expression towards Michael. He was smiling, looking at Julia to see if she would smile too. She was not about to smile, she had not quite understood his joke, but she had detected a slightly snide tone in his voice. She looked away.

After a short wait they reached the front of the queue. Julia had to insist on paying for her own tickets. Michael noted that the film was not due to start for ten minutes and they both went to buy coffee in the cinema bar. The man in the suit was just ahead of them, talking to the person serving at the bar.

“What kind of coffee is it?” he was inquiring politely.

The server looked a little confused. “It’s just normal coffee I think.” Then recovered slightly with “Would you like to see the sachet?”

“No no. I was just wondering why it costs so much. How much are sandwiches please?”

“Sandwiches? Sorry we don’t sell sandwiches.”

The man in the suit nodded. “I’ll just have coffee then please.”

The coffee was poured and purchased. As the man turned to find a seat Michael noticed, and recognised his face. The man turned his head to avoid catching Michael’s eye.

Julia bought their coffees. They sat at a small table. Michael leaned toward Julia and spoke quietly to her. “I recognise him from The Scala.” Michael’s eyes scanned left and right. “And a few other people too.”

Julia followed his movement and looked at the people. The patrons were a motley collection. Two twenty-few-year-olds were standing to trade middle class witlessisms whilst their girlfriends sat in audience. Three male students made the best of their poverty at the high ticket prices by sharing a single can of beer and laughing loudly a lot. The man in the suit leaned against the wall sipping his coffee and reading a book about international terrorism. Then there were the groups of arty types, variously complaining about their office jobs or talking loudly about reviews in unknown magazines whilst looking with distaste at the large number of pre-Goths, post-Goths, proto-Goths, full-Goths and Crusties who made up the bulk of the inhabitants of the bar area. Julia, as she expected, recognised none of them.

“It’s a shame it closed you know.” Michael mused. “Perhaps I’ll go and talk to him.”

Julia saw that he meant the man in the suit, but only secondarily. Her primary attention was on Michael definitely not doing a routine. Julia prompted him, after a pause to look at his face, “About what?”.

“Oh I don’t know.” Michael gazed absently at a cigarette end on the floor.

Julia was convinced Michael’s uncertainty was genuine. What would he do next? Unfortunately for her the moment was disrupted by the imminent start of the film. People started to file out of the bar, and into the auditorium. Julia stood up and moved toward the auditorium straight away. Michael sat and watched idly for a few seconds then stood up to join Julia. She was disappointed. He had played another routine - not rushing to be at the front, which would have been macho-competitive and dorkish, but waiting for Julia to make the move then following her, at the same time demonstrating that he was a new man and that he was cool. He was even wearing a slight, off-centre smile pointing out what he had just done. Julia read irony but also smugness before they shuffled into the darkness of the larger room.

They sat towards the front of the cinema, in adjacent seats, but without touching. Michael got into the first film. A portion of the audience, evenly distributed around the seats, were enjoying the film noisily; cheering and laughing had broken out even in the first five minutes. A few others in the audience were trying to shush the noisy elements, without success, but with increasing insistence. The matter rose to a head when somebody shouted, in chorus with a character on the screen, “I am a supercharged suicide machine!”.

A loud, fatherly voice tried to make itself heard “Would you...” but was drowned in the short burst of whooping following the projection of the word “INTERCEPT”.

The voice resumed, a little louder, and this time was heard to say “Excuse me. Some of us are trying to watch the film. Could you be quiet please.” A few scattered claps greeted this request.

The student who had shouted earlier said “I am watching.” which garnered a little more applause. Then Julia noticed the man in the suit. He was standing up just a few seats to her right, and one row nearer the screen. He turned to face the audience and spoke.

“Yeah we are watching, so shut up you old cunt. This is a cinema not a church.”

The foul language delivered in a passionate, but educated tone, shocked the cinema into momentary silence, but the man sat down to cheers from all around the auditorium. The remainder of the film passed noisily.

As the closing credits scrolled up the screen Michael leaned over and said “Fancy a coffee?” in Julia’s ear. They picked up their stuff and headed back to the bar. Julia sat at a table against the wall and watched Michael walk across the room to buy. As his coffees were made the queue started. Julia looked away, seeing if she could spot the Ladies. Michael paid and walked over.

Michael leaned over her to put two cups on the table, and say “The guy who said ‘Could you be quiet’ during the film was behind me in the queue. He started complaining so she’s called the manager.” He nodded towards the woman at the bar who was just replacing a telephone receiver. Julia looked over and saw an arty man and two or three silent companions waiting at one end of the short bar, frowning at the queue, most of whom were smiling, and chatting. Then she noticed the door to the Ladies.

“I’m just going to the loo.” she said and stood up. Michael nodded slightly and blew on his coffee, but his eyes were looking sidelong. As she crossed the room Julia considered Michael’s distracted expression. As she opened the door it dawned on her that Michael was actually interested in the complaining man.

Unusually, there was no queue and Julia found a vacant cubicle straight away. She bolted the door behind her, undid her jeans, pulled them and her knickers down to her knees with one movement and sat back on the toilet. Julia relaxed and considered Michael as she waited for her urine to trickle out. His interest in the complaint - he had been almost excited - was not exactly genuine, but not a pretence either. Julia considered Michael’s reactions to past arguments. Whether involved as a principal or not Michael seemed to view conflict as a game. It was a game he would play, and with skill, but not with involvement or commitment. There was a quiet tinkling sound as a small amount of urine dribbled into the pan. Julia decided her analysis was perhaps unfair, certainly not quite accurate. Michael did argue with commitment and did get involved, but only as much as one might with any game. Michael did not let arguments touch him.

Julia remained seated for a little while longer. Her bowels were resettling after her buggering in the shower earlier, and the lavatory was the least embarrassing place for her to make the accompanying gassy squelching noises. There was only slight pain, which did not trouble Julia. She felt her soreness as a fond memory and smiled.

Julia wiped herself, discarded the toilet paper and stood up. She looked at the deep yellow urine as she pulled her jeans up and reflected that she should have had some water or a can of something to drink to replenish herself after her class. Julia unbolted the door and went to the sink to wash her hands.

The first thing she noticed, on coming back into the bar, was that the manager had been summoned and was now talking with the complainer and his crew. She walked around the bar back to the table where Michael was sitting. Michael, whilst apparently ignoring the discussion, was in fact listening very carefully, and had been since it had begun, as evidenced by the summary he now gave Julia. He waited until she was sitting and spoke in a low voice.

“He started by just complaining, outraged he was. She wasn’t interested. What she wants to do is get them out of this room. He won’t hear of it, he wants an apology, wants all his money back, wants these yobs thrown own. Oh wait a minute.”

Michael had noticed something and was looking unobtrusively. Julia took a sip of her coffee. She looked at the wallpaper, the slightly rough painted wooden surface of their small table, the coffee with milk in polystyrene cups, at Michael’s concentration, but not at the centre of the room. Consequently, when Michael turned his attention back to her and whispered “Did you see that?” with an amused air, Julia just shook her head.

“They’re breaking ranks. The manager offered to refund their money, but only for the films they haven’t seen yet. Some of them are taking it.” Michael whispered excitedly.

Julia sipped her coffee again. She did not understand how Michael could find the argument so absorbing. Julia looked at his face. He was concentrating totally on catching every detail. Her examination was interrupted by a raised voice from the discussion.

The arty man was addressing his remarks to the main complainer, bringing in the manager’s offer and explanation with a gesture each. “Why aren’t you listening Derek? She explained why the tickets can’t be refunded. She doesn’t have to offer us the money back for any of it but she is. It’s a reasonable offer now let’s go.”

The two other complainers moved away from the arguing men, but further from Derek. The manager stepped back, making sure not to catch anybody’s eye. Derek stuttered a little as he refocussed his attention. “Simon, I’ve been insulted. We’ve been insulted. I want -”

“Oh grow up. If you were so insulted why didn’t you walk out? I said let’s walk you out but oh no, you had to stay. If we’d walked out we could’ve got our money back.” He gestured to the manager again.

“Simon why won’t you see my point of view? You never see my point of view. Why don’t you back me up on anything?”. The tone of Derek’s voice was hurt. People who had been looking, since the voices were raised, now became embarrassed as the discussion became personal.

Simon looked as though he might say something, then made an impatient gesture and stalked off to get his refund. The other two followed him without looking back, leaving Derek and the manager. In his isolation Derek became angry.

“That doesn’t change my feelings.”

“I didn’t think it would.” the manager muttered under her breath.

“I’ve been insulted. I’ve paid good money and my film’s been ruined-”

“How much did you pay for your tickets?” The man in the suit was standing nearby, drawing out his wallet as he spoke.

Derek turned and looked in violent disbelief.

“Same as everyone else right? Here you go. Now fuck off home, miserable git.” He held out a note towards Derek, who snatched, missed, then snatched successfully. He pocketed the note with a shaking hand.

He mumbled as he turned to leave “I’ll take that as an apology.”

The man in the suit heard him and laughed. Derek reddened, but kept on walking. The manager, who had been looking at her watch, made an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you would like to take your seats, the second film is commencing.” There was a murmur of activity as people started to comply. As she left by the same door by which she had entered she said “And thank you to the people who provided today’s intermission entertainment.” The audience was smiling and laughing as they returned to the auditorium.

Julia and Michael returned to the seats they had sat in before, as did the man in the suit. As the lights went down Michael waved to attract his attention, then stood, took a step towards him, and reached out his right hand. The man raised himself from his seat a little, shook Michael’s hand, then sat down. Michael returned to his seat.

As Michael sat he let his left hand come to rest on Julia’s leg. Julia assumed it was a mistake, but the hand stayed, just above her right knee. Julia looked at Michael’s profile. He was completely still, apparently watching the film. First placing her right hand on his left to restrain him from moving it, she twisted her weight and crossed her left leg over her right, trapping his hand between her thighs. Julia checked Michael’s profile, which remained motionless, again then turned to watch the film.

Julia changed her position a few times during the film, but Michael’s hand stayed on her throughout. Julia felt he was steadying himself.

The second film passed just as noisily as the first. Nevertheless, Julia was feeling somewhat bored and was glad not to have to watch another. She and Michael walked back through the bar, and out of the cinema. It was dusk. They walked to the Underground station.

They were in the station, at the bottom of the stairs about to turn left to the Northbound platform when Michael noticed the man in the suit waiting on the Southbound platform.

“I see you don’t like the third one either.” Michael called to him.

The man turned to them. “No I don’t.” he said, smiling. He walked towards them, stopped at an easy distance for speech, then seemed unsure of what to say.

“Oh err by the way, I’m Michael, this is Julia.”

“Robert.” he answered, he smiled and nodded at Julia, then returned his attention to Michael as he said “Look I’m kind of my way somewhere, but maybe next time I see you in the cinema we can go for a drink or something?”

“Sure.” Michael replied. He was thinking of something for a moment, then spoke again. “They’re showing The Fountainhead there next week. Were you going to go and see that?” (He flicked his head in a direction on the word there).

Robert paused for thought then began nodding. “Yeah. Yeah why not.”

“OK I’ll see you there.”

“Next week.” Robert raised his hand, then returned to the spot he had been standing in before.

Michael and Julia went to their platform just as a train pulled in and stopped. They sat next to each other, Michael’s hand again rested on Julia’s right leg, just above the knee.