He is already inside me when I come the first time. That is how tonight starts. Not a conversation. Not the drawer. His cock buried to the root, thick, the veins of him a fact I can feel, so deep I have to open my mouth to take the stretch. My legs are around his waist. The cheap lamp is yellow on the brick of the lane. I come with a sound I try to swallow and cannot, my pussy pulling on him in hard helpless clenches, and he fucks me through it, slow, sure, as if this were the middle of something and not the beginning.

I am Yuna. I am twenty-six. Korean. A flight attendant in Sydney. I still say sorry in the aisle. I cover my mouth when I laugh. In this bed I do not cover anything. Luca is twenty-nine, Italian, Black Italian, from Naples, and he has been coming to this Surry Hills terrace for three weeks. We met at a bar on Crown…