“It’s only a book, you know. Don’t look so shocked. If it were the word of an all powerful god don’t you think it would be less inconsistent? More to the point, don’t you think that the book itself would be inviolable? As it is I can show you how it’s been edited and altered by man to fulfil man’s agenda…”

Peter grunted as he interrupted;

“Oh good heavens, not this again! The bible has been altered so it can’t be the word of God? Did you ever consider that it might have been the Grace of God within chosen people that led to the refinement of the bible? The point is that you don’t believe in God, so you assume that there are no good reasons for what you see as inconsistencies in the Bible. I on the other hand believe in God and that the Bible is the Word, I am just not smart or holy enough to fully understand it. So anyway how do you want your steak? Everything is ready and the pan is hot.”

“Medium rare, please Pete. Thanks.”

Peter turned away and placed the first steak in the pan;

“Why don’t you pour some wine?”

Sometimes a pipe is just a pipe, but sometimes it is an egg whisk. I had been wondering whether or not the apparent flirting coming from the guy who lives over the road was real flirting for well over a week before I finally decided to do something about it.

As usual I was setting off on my morning run, at about half six, when I saw him coming out of the house, already dressed for work. I did nothing different; simply waved and smiled, but he stuck his hand up and before I knew it he was coming over.

“Hi there. Going for a run, huh?”

This was a fairly safe gambit; it was not like he wandered over and said “I’ve worked out you’re gay and I’d like to invite you over for dinner and maybe a good hard fuck”. Still the body language was all there. His whole body was slightly inclined towards me and as I stopped to answer him he reached out with his hand, his eyes were dilated… He was a really good looking guy; I was more than a little flattered by the attention. I was about to take his hand;

“Can you sign this for me?”

This had been a good idea through all of the planning phase. Now, sat behind a wall in the freezing November night, waiting for the others to arrive, hoping to not be found by a security guard, Alan was starting to feel some uncertainty creeping in.

It had been two months earlier when they had all taken a few too many drinks and decided to fake a Banksy on the walls of the new Magistrates’ Court. All of them had lived in Bristol for years, some of them remembered Banksy’s first works appearances. They had been joking about how much they missed his work since he had become more famous, and then Frank had simply said;

“Why don’t we do one for him, huh?”

It was elegant in both its power and simplicity. A graffiti installation apparently by a reclusive and secretive artist would appear on a new building in his old stomping ground. The local reaction was likely to be pleasure and satisfaction that the ‘old boy’ has come back to the home range, and even though it would be publicised it would be hard to out as a fake.

“What do you mean, you ate reindeer sausages? How could you do that?”

Frank shook his head and swallowed the derisory comment he had been about to spew forth. Instead he took a moment to remind himself that the high moral ground was easily lost, but easier to win if never surrendered. Besides he quite liked this girl and making her look stupid, or trying to anyway, was bound to work out badly for him in the long run.

“Well, they were on the menu, and I’d eaten venison sausages before, so I thought that I’d probably like them… I suppose I fancied some game and there it was.”

Judging by the look on her face cheap humour may have been the better option; at least there would have been the outside chance of making her laugh.

“That’s sick that is. I mean it’s bad enough that you think eating Bambi is okay, but Rudolph! I can’t believe I ever liked you!”

This had to be a joke! Was she seriously going to lose it with him over sausages? He was starting to sweat and shift in his seat;

“You pillock! Had ya!”

She was smiling.

The stream of tail-lights stretching away into the distance was really quite soul destroying. If Della had been awake they could have talked, maybe even kissed; it was not as if the traffic was moving.

She snuffled and brushed her wrist across her nose in her sleep and he felt himself melt in the face of her cuteness. Why was it that this woman, this person was cute to him when she flailed about in her sleep and made odd noises and even talked in her sleep sometimes? When he had to share a twin with a work colleague on a sales trip, or go somewhere with the softball team on an away game, the similar foibles of other sleepers would annoy him rather than make him feel happy and affectionate. Of course it was because he loved her, and he knew that, but it amused him to play with the uneven treatment he gave to people who were not Della.

“Richard? Come back to bed Richard.”

Suddenly he did not feel happy and secure and loving towards her. Now all he could do was wonder who Richard was, what with his name being Tony.

The moonlight, reflected on the underside of the bridge by the ripples in the water made it seem as though they were walking into a tunnel of water. She gripped his hand a little more tightly, suddenly worrying that they were in a dark and lonely place.

“Hey there. You scared baby, or have you just noticed that no one is around?”

His smirk would normally have annoyed her, but something about the light, the way his voice sounded bouncing off the bridge and most importantly the fantastic bottle of wine that they had just shared at the restaurant. She shot him her best playful and cute look and yanked him towards the wall. For a moment he hesitated, double checking that he was right about their being alone and then he followed her lead.

She pulled his hands inside her coat as their mouths met and once he had got the basic idea she slid one hand around his waist and the other snaked its way into his trousers. As she found what she was looking for he let out the little gasp that she loved so much. She squeezed more.