There was one time that I almost told Claire about Thanksgiving — in fact I tried to tell her. It was one night just after sex when I was feeling particularly close to her. As I started to tell the story, Claire sat up straight; she pulled the sheet tight against her body and I backed away from what I was about to say. I changed it. I left out the kiss. And I just mentioned something about Jane brushing against me.

‘You were in her way and she was trying to get past you and not get to you,’ Claire said.

I didn’t mention that I felt the head of my cock pressing against my sister-in-law’s tight skirt, her hips, her thighs pressed together.

‘Only you would think she was making a pass,’ Claire said, disgusted.

‘Only me,’ I repeated.

he pulled me to her; her hips were narrow. My hand slid down into her panties. It was a new jungle, new wildlife. She sighed. The feel of her, this private softness, was incredible. I remember thinking, This is not really going to happen — is it?

Her mouth was on me. She reached for something, some kind of cream; it started cold and then went warm. She stroked me, looking me straight in the eye. And then again her mouth was on me and there was no way of saying no. She pulled my trousers out from under, quickly had me down and was upon me, riding me. It was like nervous heaven. I exploded.

I am telling myself that I did what I was told. Claire told me to stay. Jane wanted me —she pulled me towards her. Why am I being so weak? Why am I blaming the victim? I ask myself, did you ever think you should stop yourself or someone else but in the moment you couldn’t or didn’t? Now I understand the meaning of — it just happened. Or — it was an accident.