I felt his warm breath on my ear, on my cheek, on my mouth. I felt his lips brushing against mine and I froze. “Paul...” I murmured. My whole body...was tense as if about to flee, remained frozen as if it knew that escape was the last thing I really wanted. For a moment we looked deep into each other’s eyes, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. And then his lips were on mine, kissing me gently. My body was stiff; stunned and unresponsive but the warmth of his tummy and chest. It was composed by Hilaire Belloc in 1929 and called Tarantella (an Italian dance) and the setting is at an inn on the Spanish side of the border with France. It starts off like this: Do you remember an Inn, Miranda? Do you remember an Inn? And the tedding and the spreading Of the straw for a bedding, And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees, And the wine that tasted of tar? ‘Omigod, what a lovely rhythm, it does sound like a dance? But isn’t it supposed to be unlucky to change the name. When she met me I saw a smile on her face she was in casuals and looking sweet. I waived looking at her and said Hi. I praise her for her look’s and she blushed. There after occasionally we used to meet and used to chit chat too. I never thought about her in a sexual way and we have become good friends and used to talk freely. Soon Uncle’s son was getting married and functions started in the house. Everyone was busy with preparation and Anu also started visiting house more frequently. We often. I don’t think I want to be friends with Martin and Kirsty anymore, and I’d like you to break off your friendship with them as well.’ ‘Don’t be silly, Ralph. Martin and Kirsty are our best friends. We can’t break off a friendship just like that.’ ‘We can if I think that that friendship is all about Martin getting you into his bed. And that is what I think it is! I’ve never really had anything in common with him. He’s a bloody yuppie pen pusher, whilst I’m just a grease monkey from the local.