All the Rage

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She ducks back inside and a moment later there's the sound of the entryphone buzzing, and the two girls stumble over the step into the house, still giggling.

The man opens the glovebox. That bitch is lucky he isn't going to do her right here and now; that'd put paid to their trashy little tart fest. But he won't. He wants the exhilaration of waiting `“ still wants it, even now. The exquisite anticipation, the detail by detail: how she'll smell, how she'll taste, the feel of her hair. Just knowing he could have that whenever he chooses `“ that the only thing preventing him is his own restraint `“

He sits a while, clenching and unclenching his fists, allowing his heart rate to slow. Then he puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine.

The alarm goes at seven but Faith Appleford has already been up for an hour. Hair, clothes, shoes, make-up, it all takes time. She's sitting at her dressing table now, putting the finishing touches to her mascara, hearing her mother calling up the stairs from the kitchen.

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