Daring

Your father picks us up from the tiny station in a 4x4. I want to tell you everyone is staring like they've never seen a black person.

Your house is huge, fields all around. “You're a brave girl taking on our George,” your mother says, smoking and drinking wine while she cooks.

You laugh.

“I only spoke to her at Freshers on a dare.”

At dinner your father says “So refreshing to see a girl like you taking a risk to get on in the world”. Your hand is between my legs under the table.

When we're alone by the fire later I feel swollen and full, cushioned and protected.

Under oil paintings you fuck me on the floor, shivering as you come. Chest still heaving you say, “I forgot to tell you about the fox,” and show me the photos on your phone.

“We dared each other”, you say. “We caught it then we took turns.”

You cut it and kicked it and propped it up, put cigarettes in its mouth, photographed it, stuffed it in a bin.

“Vermin,” you say sleepily.

I hold you tight, far from home, hiding my face in case I spoil everything by speaking.