Page 3 of The Love Position

Sophia’s heart sank. Her boyfriend yelling ‘more’ and ‘yes’ in Latin meant he’d reached the obnoxious stage of drunkenness, where he truly believed he was the reincarnation of Marcus Aurelius.

Please don’t ask me to be your slave girl later…

Gritting her teeth, she carried the shopping bags to the kitchen. There was no sign of what could be causing the awful burning smell, but a roll of tinfoil was out on the worktop. Putting it away, she took out the takeaway boxes, turned the oven on, then went to wash her hands, thinking of any task she could do to delay facing a drunk Marcus and his friends when she was completely sober.

She froze as a shriek of female laughter carried along the corridor.

Who on earth is in there with him?

Then there was a high-pitched yelp of… pleasure?

Adrenaline prickling the back of her neck, she moved towards the living room. Pausing, her hand on the door knob, she heard Marcus groaning loudly from the other side. He only ever made that noise when they were together in bed. Alone.

Pulse pounding in her temples, she entered the room.

The people inside were so caught up in their activities, they didn’t notice Sophia’s arrival. Shock turned her blood to ice as she took in the tableau.

Marcus, her boyfriend of the past ten years, and the only man she’d ever slept with, was facing away from her, kneeling on the floor in front of the sofa, and rutting a woman from behind. His only clothing was a purple bed sheet tied haphazardly around him like a toga, and a laurel wreath on his head.

Sophia’s gaze fixed on his pale buttocks as they clenched and wobbled with every thrust.

Is this what he looks like when we make love?

She couldn’t see anything of the woman he was having sex with apart from her legs, but did recognise the other woman in the room. Holding a lighter underneath a sheet of tinfoil, she was inhaling noxious brown smoke coming off a substance on the top.

‘Kiera?’ Sophia asked, her voice thin and dry.

The young woman glanced up, her pupils blown out and her eyes glassy.

‘Oh, shit!’ she gasped, dropping what was in her hands and fumbling to pull a white bedsheet around her naked body.

The foil landed on the carpet, burning side down, and the smoke intensified.

‘Fuck!’ Kiera cried, bum-shuffling away.

Marcus didn’t notice, his backside pounding faster as he cried ‘slave girl’ in Latin.

Dashing forward, Sophia grabbed a throw cushion from the floor and smothered the flames.

‘What were you smoking?’ she asked, her heart thumping against the inside of her ribcage.

Please let it not be what I think it is…

The young woman stared at Sophia, eyes wide like a rabbit in headlights.

‘Kiera!’

She blinked. ‘Opium.’

Marcus was grunting ‘ancilla’ louder and louder. He roared as if victorious in battle, and the woman beneath him screamed like a banshee.

Then the only sounds left were heaving gasps of recovery and discordant reed instruments.

Every one of Sophia’s senses was assaulted. This was her house, her sanctuary, and it was being defiled on every level. Hands trembling, she flicked the music off.

‘Huh?’ Marcus said, his gaze moving to Kiera.

Kiera looked at Sophia.

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