Anja turned slowly, the thin fabric moving. ‘That's a daring outfit,’ she remarked in a quiet, deliberate voice. Her fingers stroked the lace hem on her thigh. ‘Is it your girlfriend's outfit?’ I swallowed hard, the broth suddenly feeling thick in my throat. ‘No,’ I said in a hoarse voice. ‘It belonged to my ex.’ I forced myself to shrug, trying to appear casual. ‘But it suits you.’ Anja's green eyes looked at me sharply and searchingly. ‘Oh,’ she murmured, and a hint of something incomprehensible – disappointment? – flitted across her face. ‘That's a shame.’ Then, without hesitation, her fingers found the thin straps on her shoulders. She let them slide down and the black lace fell silently onto the damp tiles.


Naked in the candlelight, her skin still glistening with residual moisture, she climbed nimbly over the high rim of the tub. The hot broth swelled around my waist as she settled down opposite me, her knees bumping against mine under the murky, fragrant liquid. Her gaze did not waver from my face. ‘So,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper that pierced the hissing of the candles. ‘Tell me about your research, Sven.’ The heat intensified, radiating from her skin just inches from mine. The boundaries dissolved completely.