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Look! From her blonde updo to her black ankle boots, Adelaide is luminous in the Psyche mirror. Ash-grey, the feathers on her satin skirt tickle my fetish spirit; in her eyes I see the same ardour as when I first met her. Simple Minds. The Barrowland Ballroom. ‘Tonight, under the crystal light, surrender everything to me.’ In a whisper of silk-chiffon you bring your body before the mirror. The softly-structured silhouette of your mint-green dress brings your femininity into relief; a tug on the olive waistband augments it in the pleated bodice.
After dinner, the rain having let up, we went for a spin on her Vespa. The wailing of police sirens was never out of earshot as we rode through the glistening streets. We stopped at a jukebox dive where I played ‘She’s a River’; limber, her body found a rhythm that unlocked mine. Over a beer, she told me of her adventures working, in-between her studies, as a ski instructor in winter and a tennis coach in summer. When midnight came and the bar closed, we felt we’d known each other for ages; in bed there was whole-hearted tenderness, nothing needed to be said. So why, as a three-masted schooner ferried me to sleep, did I see a pin-up with Giulia’s tits and your eyes tattooed on its mainsail? And why did I find myself stranded on the shore, with no prospect of a boat? I won’t strew roses at your feet, Marietta, I won’t rue and rue—just hear me now, that I may honour you!