(London; 1950s) You were in love with the director of the film you had given the position as gofer for, but PL, a charming handsome and excellent small time actor, was madly and hopelessly in love with you, because you reminded him of his long lost love before the war. After a Christmas party he offered you a ride home and ended up at his apartment, of which you two began to have an affair. You found it only as a way to gain sexual experience and possibly catch the ignorant director (he was secretly gay and used younger men on set). While in PL’s small bed in his one bedroom apartment he sat up from the disheveled sheets, and turned to face you, and quickly wrapped the warm blankets around you and held you close to him, laying beside you as you were completely wrapped in the blankets and his arms around you

“Don’t you love me even a little bit?” He spoke quietly, already knowing what the answer would be. Usually a shy shake of your head, he looked intently into your eyes, mesmerized

he sighed and held onto you a bit tighter, refusing to let go, scared of losing you.