It’s Sunday morning. I’ve brought croissants over to Nigel’s so we can read the papers.

Nigel is 12 years older than I. He’s been in a relationship with Peter for close to 8 years. Every Sunday Peter heads into the office and then the club, leaving Nigel alone to get into trouble. I’m “the trouble”.

I met Nigel while standing at the bar The Clone Zone, just steps away from Earls Court Tube station. He was blond, royalty handsome and drunk. He also had one ear sticking 90 degrees out from his head. It was endearing. I’ve written briefly about our relationship before here.

The door to the house cracks open. Peter is back unexpectedly. “Be calm,” Nigel says not looking up from his paper. Peter enters the kitchen and surveys the two of us. I’m about to introduce myself but Peter claps his hands together and says “Right!” a bit too loudly. He turns and we can hear him rummaging around the bedroom. The front door slams.

We then proceed to have great, naughty sex, Nigel and I.