There is a skeleton in my closest but no one had ever seen it. I keep it well hidden, like the solitary spot on a teenage girl’s otherwise immaculate face. No one knows about my dirty secret, no one needs to know of course, I’m not stupid like the others who got themselves found out, they had shown someone the skeleton in their closest. But not mine. I’m just a plain boy after all.

It was hidden in plain view in my bedroom. No one would ever suspect a thing. It’s just a plain room after all.

‘Would you like some more wine?’ I said, offering the bottle. It was a vintage red, sweet to the tongue and handsomely complimented the steak that was just a carcass for the second time on our plates.

I was pouring before she said yes; I wanted her drunk, otherwise it would not have been fun for either of us. She was a nice girl, picked up from Havant’s club two weeks ago. The first date had merely been testing the water with drinks, the second had been mini-golf to see if she was as fun as she was good-looking. She may have faltered in that department, but her putting saved her.

I like a girl who can putt.

After dessert I was pleasantly surprised to find she led the hints, though she took it upon herself to take a tour of my little cosy home. That annoyed me slightly, it annoys me when people think they can explore my little comfy home without my approval.

They’ll never know what they might find.

The tour ended at the bedroom. I told her to wait on the bed while I went to freshen up.

All I heard was a pathetic whimper.

I opened my bathroom door, topless, fresh, minuscule drops of aftershave still on my chest, to see that she had opened my closest that was hidden in plain view.

‘I wanted some pyjamas,’ she said.

I wasn’t angry. I laughed and grabbed the baseball bat I keep in my bathroom in case of robbers.

No one knows about the skeletons in my closest.