The silence surged on and at last he felt that she relaxed at the threshold of sleep and his face was inches from the lush mesh of her hair. His hand was upon her arm and slid to her waist, cradled the hip and at last felt the warmth of her belly and his eyes swam, the world overheeled as his hand cupped her breast. He lay with his head thrown back, a huge surf beating behind his eyes, across his chest, swamping his loins. She held his hand to her breast for a moment and then gently took it and placed it on her waist. She was soon asleep and all night he listened to her breathing and his breathing and towards morning she turned in her sleep towards him and he shifted his face into the path of her breath and as dawn came, he sucked in her breath and watched her face, her eyes like a child’s, the mouth open, the freckles around her neck, vulnerable in their childishness.