All Sue wanted was a kiss. One single kiss – it didn’t even have to be a proper one; a peck on the cheek would do. But nobody, it seemed, had even the slightest inclination to do so. Even on Valentine’s Day. So she, being the sensible, straight-laced girl that she was, had decided to approach the subject in a more traditional way, and take matters into her own capable (she thought) hands. Armed with a silk dress, red petticoat and a white glove (to slap him with, in case of…things) as well as the knowledge that she had him trapped either way with her proposal – if he refused, he owed her a kiss, and if he agreed, well, wasn’t kissing an ordinary, anticipated part of being engaged?

She approached.