He looked angry, and almost sad, but there was something else too. She forced herself to look away. “I… I wanna go to bed. Please, just tell me off in the morning. I sure you'll have plenty to say.”She moved towards her bedroom door, groping for the knob. “No,” he stated. “No, we're not done here.” He moved his body in front of the door, blocking the way as she blindly grabbed. That was when she felt it. It was thick, and heavy, and stretched the thin fabric of his jogging bottoms. And it was hard. Hard like a steel pipe. And her hand had unknowingly grabbed it. Expecting a door handle, she had wrapped her fingers around it, and now felt it firmly rest in her palm. Time seemed to stand still. She looked up at him. He looked like she felt - shocked, horrified, and unable to speak. Neither of them moved a muscle, as if moving would make it all real. They just stood, faces mere centimetres apart. She saw the shape of his pink lips, smelled the beer on his breath, heard the rapid thump. Mostly Ava gives them an autograph or a hug and they go on their way. But not this man. Not John. For Ava had seen him too, sat in the front row almost every week with his friends, and he had caught her eye. The tall, dark, handsome stranger, with eyes like circles of charcoal, hair swept back from his face, perfectly suited and booted. John would be getting more than his t-shirt signed tonight, that's for sure. "I'm certain it is, John," she whispers in reply. Ava sets her glass of wine down on her dressing table next to a bottle of expensive perfume and the tassels she removed after the show. Before she knows what she's doing, she has removed her silk robe and slung it over the back of her dressing chair, leaving her stood in nothing but her stockings and heels. "Why didn't you visit sooner?" Ava asks him in a husky voice. "Circumstance," John answers simply, removing his smart, grey suit jacket and chucking it on top of her robe. The pair of garments are a perfect representation.
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