Later that night, Paul gathered Zay in his arms as they snuggled together in his bed. They had had round two, a much calmer slower version of round one, and this time they had taken the time to get to know one another’s body and to enjoy the experience. This time, they had taken the trouble to murmur sweet nothings into the other’s ear. This time, they had made love.

Paul watched the slow rise and fall of Zay's chest as his eyes closed and his exhausted body ceded the battle to remain awake. He marvelled at the circumstances that had led to Zay being here, right now, in his bed. Funny old word. Paul had always had a sense of something missing, a vague emptiness to which he could not give a name. Who would have thought a brash, bratty catering groupie would be the one to help him name the emptiness and fill it at the same time?
Again, it was a funny old world.

Then, with a yawn, he folded Zay tighter to him and closed his eyes to sleep, thanking whatever god or gods responsible for bringing them together, thinking himself a very lucky man indeed.


T H E B E G I N N I N G