He entered the room quietly. She was sat on an ornate chair, gilded and plush. It was cold in there but she radiated warmth and excitement. You've kept me waiting, she said. Her words hung in the air as he tried to pin a tone on them.

He hung his hat on a hook behind the door and approached her. He knelt by her feet in silence and began to untie her shoelaces. Once undone, he tied them again, slowly, over and over. Every bow loosened was like a dam bursting, every knot tied like a snare round her neck. He mechanically pulled, looped and tightened the laces while she oscillated between the pleasure of the pain and the pain of the pleasure. His attention drifted. What had once been electrifying now evoked in him nothing but a sense of mindless repetition and boredom. Before long, his fingers would be red and sore and swollen and his dour mood would fill the room like a dissonant pedal tone.

He kept silent but his unease was not lost on her. She became self-conscious. She stiffened like an icicle. She suddenly saw the scene for what it was. The spell was broken.

Her shoelaces dangled untied in the air as he softly closed the door behind him.