‘Very nice,’ said Joss. ‘Number eight is called Present. You lie on your back with your hands at your sides and your legs as wide as they can possibly go. Is that the widest? Are you sure? Are you feeling it?’
‘Yes,’ I grunted. They were far too widely spread for comfort. But my comfort wasn’t the point. I could see Joss from the corner of my eye, and he looked as if he was trying very hard to hold himself back. He moved around me, clenching and unclenching his fingers. His voice was higher than usual when he next spoke.
‘Last one,’ he said. ‘Inspect. Stand up.’
My upper thighs were starting to shake, so this was a welcome instruction.
‘Hands behind back,’ he said. ‘Legs wide, shoulders right back. And for this one, and this one only, you look at me.’
Suddenly I wasn’t sure I could do it. All the other stuff seemed plain sailing compared with the enormous task of meeting his eye.
‘Did you hear me, Lucy?’ he whispered. He had come around to face me. ‘Look at me.’
Outside the world, outside everything that made sense, we stood transfixed by each other’s attention. I don’t know how long we kept it up, but towards the end I had the impression that both he and I were falling forwards, reflected in the glisten of our gazes.
He pulled back his head and said, ‘Kneel.’
It took too long to pull myself back out of that alternative reality and I stood staring stupidly until he came up behind me, clapped his hands on my shoulders and pushed me firmly to my knees.
‘You need to learn these,’ he said. ‘No, you shut your legs for Kneel. Shut them.’ He nudged my right knee with the toe of his shoe.
‘Present.’
I stood up, then sat down, then finally remembered that I had to lie for this one.
‘Too slow,’ he said, leaning over me, wrenching up my hands and smacking each wrist as he spoke. He didn’t smack them hard at all, but the effect was salutary and startling. I stared at him.
‘You’re looking at me.’ He shook his head. ‘Bend.’
That one was easily memorable, at least. I arranged myself into the humiliating position as quickly as I could.
‘Do you deserve to be punished?’ he said.
I shook my head and uttered a panicky ‘No’.
‘Hmm, I’m not sure. Last chance, then. Arse.’
I dropped down in a flash, redeeming myself.
‘Down,’ he said, and I couldn’t remember what that meant for a moment.
He reminded me by pulling my legs out straight, but I still didn’t know what to do with my arms until he pinned them behind my back.
‘Too –’ he said, with another light smack, this time to my buttocks ‘– slow.’
He had done it. He had touched me. I had made no protest – in fact, it seemed natural and right and I wanted him to do it again.
Oh, God. He had me accurately pegged. This was what I wanted. This was me.
I hauled myself to my feet.
‘What are you doing? I didn’t give the order.’
I flapped my hands at him, making him step back.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Feel a bit … need air.’
And I rushed past him, through the French doors to the patio, the cool night breeze making the cold sweat on my brow ten times worse while my heart seemed ready to leap through the confines of my ribcage.