The Arts Lab was being set up in an empty warehouse; and when Nigel and I went in through the main entrance, we found ourselves in a large, white, rather dirty room, where a woman and several men were standing around a trestle table on which some building plans had been spread out. I recognised one of the group as Miles, whom I had met casually at Pavilion Road. They stopped talking when we entered, and one of them came over immediately. Not Miles, though he smiled and waved; but a tall man with long black hair, a round face and a small moustache, who was introduced to me as Jim Haynes.
As he took my hand, Jim gave me a very direct look. He was casually dressed, but very clean, and he smelled as if he had just stepped out of a bath. I guessed that he must be in his mid-thirties (almost old enough to be my father); but I liked the firm pressure of his hand on mine, and just being close to him made my heart beat faster. Then he leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. The whole of his energy and masculinity seemed to be concentrated in that kiss. From that outwardly insignificant touch of his lips, and the slightly ticklish feeling of his moustache on my skin, something spread out through the whole of my body, until (much to my surprise) I was gripped by a feeling of desire so powerful that I made an immediate decision. Mani d’Astier had stolen my innocence; but my heart and my virginity were still intact; and Jim Haynes should have them both.