I tried to stand, but my knees gave way and I would have fallen to the ground if he had not caught me. He put his strong arms under my knees and back and carried me to his car.

In the car I turned my face away from him. The whole time he knew. I felt tainted and filled with self-loathing. Shame was like a thorn bush growing deep inside my chest. Stretching, blooming, willfully tearing, carelessly drawing blood.

I remembered his silky, seductive voice. ‘You have escaped the cage. Your wings are stretched out. Now fly.’

Maybe one day I would thank him for showing me these things about myself. Not today. Today I was too cut up. I had believed that I belonged with him, you see. I had believed that I belonged to him. I was the tattoo on his body.

The journey seemed to be over very fast. He opened my side of the door and gathered me to him. He held me so close I could feel his heartbeat. As steady as a Swiss watch. He carried me up the stairs.

‘You’re cold,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you in bed.’

‘No, I need a shower. I’m dirty.’

‘You’re not dirty. You’re the cleanest person I know.’

‘I need a shower,’ I said, my voice breaking.

He carried me straight into the shower. When he put me down I swayed slightly and he tightened his hold on my body. The tiles were cold under my feet. I shivered from the loss of his body warmth. He stripped me quickly. Goose bumps peppered my skin.

‘I know. I know you’re cold,’ he murmured soothingly. Still holding onto me he leaned away from me. I heard the sound of water splashing and then he was gently guiding me under the hot stream. I sighed. Barely able to move I closed my eyes. He was still holding onto my forearms. Strength seeped from his hands into my skin. I felt safe. For the first time in a very long time I felt safe. Utterly safe.

Tears began to flow out of my eyes. I thought he wouldn’t know. Not with the water rushing over my face, but he said softly, ‘Don’t cry, princess. No more tears for you. I’m here now.’

That only made me cry even harder. My body shuddered with sobs. He held me as I bawled my eyes out. I cried for ages until I was exhausted. I slumped onto his chest. He made a move. He was going to take me out.

‘Soap. I’m still filthy,’ I whispered.

He pressed me against his body. ‘You’re not filthy,’ he snarled.

‘Soap,’ I breathed weakly.

His jaw was clenched tight but he leaned me against the tiles and reached for the soap. It smelt of apples. Clean. Fresh. Crisp. Everything I was not. With gentle circles he washed my soiled shoulders, my dirty neck, my gross arms, my foul forearms, my lusty hands, my unclean fingers. All those wicked men. I had let them all abuse me. I had been wet and sticky for their perverted desires. I had let them fuck me. I had let them come inside me. Grubby, grubby Olivia. I didn’t deserve this clean, wonderful man.

Tenderly, he did my breasts, letting the bar slide over my nipple. I wanted to thrust forward, but I was too ashamed, too polluted to touch a man like him. The soap traveled across to my armpits, down to my ribs, my stomach, my hips.

When he reached the unspeakably mucky, disgusting area between my legs he began to slide the soap through the curls. Slowly he rubbed his hand on the mound until it lathered creamy and white. He gently cleaned between the creases. My thighs drifted open of their own accord. This was the part that reeked of all the other men. This was the dirtiest part. He must have understood because he spent more time washing it. When his palm made contact with my clit, the sensation was electric and I jumped with shock.

His hands moved down to my thighs, my calves, my feet, paying particular attention to my grimy soles. The water turned muddy. He turned me around and did my back and the stinking cleft between my buttocks. The nameless men had used me well. How had I not seen it? Slowly, he turned me around.

‘Close your eyes.’

I did as he asked.

He washed my face and then my hair. I felt the slippery soapsuds slide softly down my body.

‘Open your eyes.’

I looked at him.

‘You’re totally clean now,’ he said softly.

I slid down the tiles and spread my knees wide.

‘Wash me inside. It’s the dirtiest place of all,’ I said.

He hunkered down. His hair was wet and plastered to his body. His eyelashes were thick and black and his eyes were glittering with anger.

‘You’re clean inside, Olivia,’ he said through clenched teeth.

‘You don’t understand. You have to wash me,’ I begged.

‘I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry for what they did to you. But you’re not dirty.’

‘You don’t get it.’

‘No, you don’t get it. I don’t care what you’ve done or how many men you’ve been with. It doesn’t even matter to me if you enjoyed it. I don’t give a flying fuck about any of those things. I just want you just as you are. You’re clean, baby.’

I shuddered. I felt as if I was bleeding inside. All the things he had said—they meant nothing. I just knew I needed to be clean again. ‘Please,’ I begged.

The rigidness went out of him. An expression crossed his face. It could have been profound pity or even savage anguish. He closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them he was transformed. His eyes were like the weathered stony face of a mountain. It had stood its ground for centuries and it would remain unchanged and immovable for centuries more.

He rose up and soaped his fingers. He sat on his heels and tenderly inserted two soapy fingers inside. I gasped. I gasped at what we were doing. I gasped at that man. At his kindness. Surely he could not be mine. His eyes never faltered. Very gently he moved his fingers inside me, washing me clean. Then he pulled his fingers out and let the water pound the suds away before he put them back inside me. I watched the lather and all the mess of unclean fluids, mine and all the other men’s, gush down the sinkhole. He did it until his hands came out clean. I saw that the pads of his fingers were beginning to crinkle.

‘It’s done,’ he said softly.

I nodded. I placed my palms on the floor and tried to push myself up, but it seemed too great an effort. He grabbed me under my arms and pulled me up and leaned me against the tile.

‘One last thing,’ he said and went down on his haunches again. The space was so thick with steam his head seemed to rise out of clouds of white. Like being in a misty dream.

‘Don’t,’ I objected, but my voice lacked strength.

‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I love you.’

He pulled apart my lower lips and leaning forward plunged his long, searing tongue as deeply into me as he could. Shocking heat exploded at my core, the ripples fanning out into my bloodstream. It was insane but at the edges of my consciousness was an instinct to want him, no matter what. I put my hands on his head, grabbed handfuls of his wet hair, and leaned my head back against the tiles.

Water flooded down over my face. I was so tired I felt floaty. My brain felt as though it was wrapped in cotton wool. Crikey, what did he just say? Surely I must have misheard him. Silly Vivi, of course you misheard. Something inside me broke at the thought.

What he was doing between my legs seemed to be happening to someone else. All the fire licking up my belly couldn’t be happening to me. I closed my eyes as the water rained down on me and he covered my clit with his warm velvety mouth and began to suck. It felt so damn good. New blood began to pump into my tired, aching limbs. Desire began to course through my body. My nipples ached for the feel of his fingers.

I looked down at him.

The movement made his eyes flicker open. They were smoky with desire. He extended his tongue and teased and tortured the tip of my clit until I wanted to scream. I rubbed his face in my sex.

‘I’m coming,’ I warned breathlessly and he opened his mouth to receive all my juices. I slumped against the wall, limp and spent.

He shut off the water, dried me. I felt his cock, thick and full and unspent, brush against me. I should have done something for him, I thought vaguely as he carried me to his bed. The sheets smelt of lavender. I sat curled in his bathrobe while he dried my hair. Afterwards he fluffed the pillows and put me to bed. Empty and drained I lay on the pillow and looked up at him. He kissed the crown of my head over and over again, and each time he promised to take care of me until the day he died. Then he looked down at me with quiet strength until I fell into a deep sleep.