Melanie is late. I have been expecting her for over an hour and I am beginning to get worried. But now I hear the front door slam and her high heels tapping across the hallway floorboards. She comes into the kitchen where I am sitting listening to the evening news. "Oh, God," she says, "I have got to go pee. I have been sitting in a traffic jam for an hour. I'll be back in a minute."
Before she can leave the kitchen I stand in front of her and take her slowly into my arms. "Let me go!" she squeals. But I don't. I know what I want.
I back up against the door and shut it so she can't escape