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The rabbits are startled by your approach, and all I see of them are tails and paddle-like feet as they bound away in a flurry of shifting grass - until you turn, holding a small one by the ears, for me. The fire in your eyes as you hold it in front of me - your chest heaving with your breathing - is disarming, and I reach for the rabbit, following my instinct to protect it from whatever plans you have in mind. To my surprise - and delight - you don't pull it away from me, but instead offer it - at a respectful arms length - for me to hold and stroke and comfort. I can feel you watching my fingertips as they disappear in the shaking a****l's soft, warm coat - and I am suddenly self-conscious because I am imagining this same motion through your hair - along the back of your head, and your chest, and...elsewhere.We move more slowly now, the rabbit in my arms and you by my side - chatting idly about the trees and flowers and fruits along the way, until we land in a small meadow-like. I looked around the room. Pictures of people in ornate frames appeared everywhere and hardly an inch of the walls lay uncovered with a lifetime’s collection of bric ‘n’ brac. George returned to the room. He was carrying a tray of cups with sugar and milk on the side. Thankfully he was dogless. He placed the tray on the coffee table and sat next me. So close he was practically on sitting on my lap. My left leg was hard against his right leg, and out of instinct I moved it away. “How are you feeling?” He asked “Nervous?” “You could say that, George” I said. “Actually it’s Henry,” He replied Now I was confused. “Sorry… Henry?” I questioned. “Yes, I never call myself by my real name on line, it’s just a bit of a risk with the location there” he added Not helping my nerves I thought. Shit, what if someone realises that Richard from the midlands is me… I took a deep breath and just thought how unlikely that was. Stop panicking I told myself. “Do you want to watch a DVD to get in.
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