I grab my bag and wait for my taxi to arrive.
Luisa’s has a few patrons but isn’t packed; it's atmospheric but not noisy. Adrian hasn’t arrived yet. The waiter asks if I’d like to take a seat in the bar area until my date arrives. I buy myself a glass of white wine and sit with one leg crossed over the other, red toenails on my swinging foot at high visibility.
At ten past seven, I start to feel a bit twitchy. I drink more of the wine than I wanted to, seeing as I’m pacing myself, and ask for some water. I explain my date is running late.
At twenty past seven, I send a text, asking where he is. I’m sure the waiters and other patrons are staring at me.
At twenty-five past seven I get up to leave. I’m just apologising to the staff when he comes rushing through the entrance. He is so attractive I almost forget to be annoyed.
‘I am so sorry I’m late. Work held me up. I promise I’m worth the wait.’
Our waitress smiles at him, instantly in love, and then turns to me looking spiky.
‘Fine, okay, let’s take our seats, I’m starving.’
‘Just a minute,’ he says, and kisses me on the cheek. ‘It’s nice to see you again.’
‘Yes,’ my voice comes out breathy, I can’t help it. I realise I’ve forgotten to do anything I practiced earlier. Come on, Amber, be sexy.
I slide into my side of the booth. The lights are dim and there’s the obligatory candle in a bottle on the table. I peruse the menu. It always takes me ages to choose, something that annoyed Will to death. I have to imagine all the textures and the flavours and how they go together before I can decide. I explain this to Adrian and apologise.
‘We aren’t in a rush,’ he drawls. ‘You take whatever time you need.’ God his voice is sexy.
As I’ve had a drink of white wine, I ask Adrian if he wants to share a bottle. ‘No, you order what you like. I will have a whisky.’
‘Eurgh,’ I state. ‘That stuff is gross.’
‘You’ll like it later.’ he says. ‘When my tongue’s in your mouth.’
Moisture pools between my legs. God, I want to fuck him right now.
‘I’m not drinking much this evening, so I’ll just have one further glass of house white and some water please,’ I tell the waitress.
‘Scared of what you might do?’ he guesses.
‘Just tired of too many hangovers of late. I need to get up for work in the morning. I need to keep my job now more than ever.’
The waitress takes my order of a small mushroom risotto starter that says it has spinach, ginger and toasted pine nuts. Then I choose sea bass with dauphinoise potatoes and a redcurrant reduction. Adrian declines a starter and orders steak.
When my risotto arrives, he watches me eat. A bit of rice escapes my mouth and he’s quick to catch it on my lip. He tastes it himself, ‘Divine.’
I play with my food, putting smaller amounts onto my fork, then eating slowly and basically just short of giving oral sex to the cutlery. He sits back and smiles, enjoying the show.
‘That was delicious,’ I say, dabbing my lips with a napkin.
‘Yes, I quite enjoyed it myself.’
We chat about general stuff, what we do for our jobs. He tells me he’s a builder. I spurt out some wine.
‘What?’
‘Is there something wrong with that?’
‘No, of course not. It’s just… you seem nothing like a builder. You’re too… smooth.’
‘Should I be wearing clothes with holes in and be covered in mud?’
‘No, but, oh God, I don’t know, I’m just surprised. I assumed you’d be an Accountant or a businessman or something.’
‘I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.’
‘Flattered, you should be flattered. Gosh, I’m so sorry. Now you’ve told me you’re a builder I keep imagining you in a Diet Coke ad, half shirtless, sweaty, and with loads of women ogling you.’
‘Okay, I’m flattered now, you’re forgiven. Tell me about your job.’
I tell him about my job temping and how I actually quite enjoy it. I realise it’s true. For the first time in my life, I feel I’ve settled into something.
‘How old are you?’ he says, ‘If you don’t mind me asking?’
‘How old do you think I am?’
‘Sorry, I don’t play games. Well, not that sort anyway.’
‘I’m almost thirty. How about you?’
‘I’m in my early forties. Does that bother you, me being so much older?’
‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘Maybe you can let me have the benefit of your life experience.’
His eyes bore into mine, all baby blue. ‘Maybe I will.’
I excuse myself and go to the loo. I need to cool down and give myself a chance to get my game back on. Right now in this tennis game of tease, it’s first set to him.
When I return, my fish course has arrived. I turn the tables and watch him devour his steak. I watch his lips smack and his tongue brush them.
‘Amber,’ he says, making me jump.
‘Gosh, sorry, I was miles away.’
‘Anywhere nice?’
My mouth curls up at the side. ‘Oh, I’ll say so.’
He offers me a bite of his steak and I put it in my mouth as he watches.
‘Very nice. I do like me some meat.’
Adrian sits up. ‘You need to stop this, Amber, or I won’t be able to.’
I smile like I’ve been handed an Oscar, pleased that I have the power to make this man hard for me. I’m enjoying the tease, the temptation. Knowing it’s going no further makes it even more erotic, somehow.
I decide to pull right back from flirting.
‘So where’s your wife tonight?’
In the midst of wiping his mouth on a napkin, he smacks it down on the table.
I flinch.
‘Sorry. I won’t ask again.’
‘No. I’m sorry. It’s okay. You shocked me, that’s all. I kind of forgot about her, but now I feel guilty. Is it okay if we don’t talk about her? I’ve not done this sort of thing before. It will take some getting used to.’
‘But you tried to pick me up at the bar?’
‘Yes, Amber—you. I can’t explain it, but it’s just you. I don’t remember ever feeling like this. The pull you have over me. I’m crazy when I’m around you. I do crazy things.’
‘Like meet me for meals?’
‘Like you wouldn’t understand.’
He picks up a menu and doesn’t speak for a minute or so. Maybe he’s regretting being here.
‘Do you want dessert?’
‘No.’
‘Do you want to get out of here?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘You’re going to send me out of my mind.’ He asks for the bill. As he settles it we say nothing, just keep staring at each other, like we’re waiting for the first to blink, to break.
Outside he grabs me and presses me against the side wall of the restaurant. I fold a leg around his. His mouth descends on mine, the taste of the peat of the whisky on my tongue. Oh, I could grow to like this. His stubble scratches my face. My hand pulls the back of his head, trying to get him closer to me, pressing his mouth harder into mine. The kiss is so fierce I fear my lips will bruise. We come up for air, panting.
‘I need to get you a cab,’ he says.
I have to admit, I hesitate for a second or two before I agree.
Back home, I consider sending him a text message but I decide against it, thinking it would appear too needy. That night in bed I relive the evening in my mind, over and over. I rub my fingers across my lips, imagining his mouth on mine and recall his husky voice growling, ‘Amber.’
He’s supposed to be an experiment, but I can’t wait to see him again.
I try to enter the office giving nothing away, but as soon as I see Mirelle’s expectant gaze and her ants in her pants posturing, I break into a huge grin.
‘Well?’
‘It went… amazing!’
‘Tell all. Now.’
I fill her in on how great it was just flirting and ending the night in a big passionate snog.
‘You went no further, did you? No hand on the boob or anywhere?’
‘No.’ I pout. ‘I behaved perfectly.’ I then recall my leg trying to pull his crotch into mine, but let that pass. We were clothed. I did good.
‘So, for the purposes of my experiment, would you say you felt like you were cheating?’ she says.
‘Nope. I just felt like I was flirting, and then it was just a snog.’
I hear Jo humph and turn to her. ‘What?’
‘Well, I was wondering if his wife would have agreed with you. Had she been present on your date.’
‘That’s his lookout, not mine.’
‘Amber, just a week ago you had a husband of your own. You’re still married.’
‘Yes, and hasn’t that worked out well?’
‘This experiment is stupid and childish. Mirelle, Amber isn’t in a fit state to do this. I don’t think she’s got her head around the Will situation yet.’
‘Stop talking to Mirelle like I’m not here.’ My voice rises, ‘I’m a grown up, I know what I’m doing.’
‘Fine. I was trying to watch out for you, but I’ll say no more on the matter, make your own bed.’
‘Yes, well that’s the whole point. I’m not making a bed, I’m just teasing. Whereas my lovely husband has rolled all over his and rumpled it up.’
‘I shall nip to the loo,’ says Jo, ‘while you calm down and consider behaving in a manner more appropriate for a workplace.’ She stomps out of the room.
‘Ooh, fight,’ says Mirelle.
I type my password into the computer, punching the keys in hard. ‘Do you think this is a bad reaction to what’s happened with Will?’
‘Could be, although you were already attracted to this guy—weren’t you?’
I sigh. ‘I don’t know anymore. I seem to leap from one stupid problem to another.’
‘Hey, don’t let Jo get to you. You came in here with a right grin on your face. If his lips on your mouth did that, imagine them somewhere else.’
‘Mirelle.’
Jo comes back in. ‘Sorry,’ I tell her. ‘I know you’re looking out for me, but just let me get on with it. I need some fun, something to take my mind off Will and this is working.’
‘Fine.’ Jo says, though I get the impression it’s anything but.
We say nothing else until Jo goes out for lunch.
‘Looks like we need to keep a lot of our plans on the down-low,’ says Mirelle. ‘Did he make any attempt to meet up again?’
‘No,’ I say. This is something that had been bothering me since I woke up. Why had he not asked when he could see me again? ‘It could be he doesn’t know when he can get away?’
‘Hmmm, well it’s not that he doesn’t want to see you again, not with the goodbye you described. He probably had to jump in a lake to cool down after that. Hey, he could have drowned. Have you checked the local news?’
‘Har—bloody—har.’
‘Well, anyway, you need to let him wait a week.’
‘A week?’
‘You need to play hard to get before the next challenge. I’ve thought of a better name for it.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Fumble.’
I crack out laughing. ‘Fumble?’
‘Are you going to repeat everything I say?’
‘Sorry.’ I laugh again. ‘That sounds idiotic.’
‘Well can you think of a better name for it, that doesn’t sound vulgar?’
I ponder it a moment. ‘Fumble it is.’
‘So when you arrange to see him again in a week, you’re allowed to go a little further, okay? Like feel each other up, but no orgasms.’
‘So groping only?’
‘Indeed.’
I’m not sure I can wait a week.
‘Mirelle?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You do realise this experiment is a tad deranged, don’t you?’
She laughs. ‘Hey, I’m not the one doing it, little puppet of mine.’
‘How’s it going with your married man anyway?’
She frowns. ‘Not as well as I was hoping. He seems to be distancing himself a bit. I’m wondering if his wife’s getting suspicious.’
‘Well, there’s always Kev to fall back on.’
I get a cold glare for that one. ‘Shall I make it two weeks?’ she counters.
Jo returns to the office laden with a tin of Quality Street. ‘From Andi, for all our hard work.’ She rolls her eyes and adds it to the drawer containing the chocolate and shortbread biscuits we’ve been given from other staff for Christmas.
‘I can’t wait for my annual leave next week,’ says Jo. ‘It’s been a funny year hasn’t it?’
‘I wouldn’t have imagined I’d be on my own this Christmas,’ I say. It’s the first time I’ve really given it any thought. ‘We’ve always had the most amazing Christmases. I always prepared smoked salmon and cream cheese on bagels and we had champagne at breakfast. Then I did turkey with all the trimmings, and, of course, the Christmas pudding.’
‘Come to mine,’ says Mirelle. ‘You can share a microwave dinner.’
I beam at her. ‘That’s totally given me the best idea, ever. Come to mine. Have Christmas with me. I’ve already bought all the stuff. I don’t fancy cooking for one, but if you come round, I’ll make the effort.’
‘But I like to spend Christmas in a drunken stupor recalling how much my life sucks.’
‘We could do that after the Queen’s speech?’ I offer. ‘You can stay over, it’s not like I have anywhere to be Boxing Day.’
‘Cool. You’re on. Don’t you have any family coming or anything though?’
‘Nope, Army Brat. My family are all over the place. Miles apart and fond of Skype. You?’
‘My parents go to my older sister’s. She has three kids. They can’t understand why I avoid going, I mean “Christmas is all about the children”’ she sing-songs. ‘Of course my first thought of a heavenly Christmas is to listen to little brats screaming.’ She mock shudders. ‘Glad to be out of that shit.’
‘Gosh Will will be doing that,’ I say, ‘With Sam and Alfie. That’s if Olly doesn’t put up a fight.’
‘Sorry, I never thought.’
‘No, it’s fine. To be honest, it serves him bloody right.’
‘Don’t forget mine on Friday,’ says Jo. ‘Some of my friends are coming alone, so you two are all right to come along without guests if you like.’
‘Oh, I might bring Adrian,’ I say. ‘There’ll be no chance of any funny business then.’
Jo frowns. ‘I’m sure he won’t want to be amongst people he doesn’t know.’
‘Well, it was just an idea,’ I say. ‘I doubt I’ll bring him.’
But Mirelle looks at me with an ‘I dare you’ grin on her face and I think who am I kidding? A chance to show him off.
At home, I have a bit of a move around. I ring up a guy with a van from the local paper and ask if he can move an old sofa. Two hours later I’m fifty quid and a sofa lighter—worth every robbing penny. I resolve to buy a couple of snuggly throws and extra cushions for Mirelle and myself. In fact, I’ll buy us some fluffy socks too. I always buy myself a pair of Christmas Pyjamas but really can’t see Mirelle in anything short of silk. I decide I’ll buy some and force her to wear them. It can be her Christmas present. I chuckle to myself.
Then I stop to listen. I can hear something. My phone is ringing from the bottom of my bag. I grab it quickly.
‘Hello?’
‘I need to see you again. I can’t get you out of my head.’
A week, I think to myself. A week.
‘What about tomorrow?’ I ask.
I am determined not to say one word about my scheduled date to Mirelle, but I needn’t have worried. When I walk in I find her at her desk, with puffed up eyes and a snotty nose, wailing in Jo’s direction.
> ‘How could he?’
‘What’s going on?’ I say as I hang up my coat.
‘He’s finished with me, Amber. My married man ended it. How could he? He said his wife found out and gave him an ultimatum. How could he pick her? I’ve seen her—she’s middle-aged and fat. He chose her over me.’
At this, another round of sobs comes out.
‘And,’ she holds out her phone, ‘he did it by text. The bastard dumped me by text!’
She collapses her head dramatically over her keyboard.
‘Erm, Mir, wasn’t the whole point of an affair with a married man that it was casual and on your terms?’
She looks up at me, narrowing her puffy eyes.
‘Yes, on my terms. If anyone did the dumping, it should have been me.’
‘Do you want a drink? You seem very upset.’
‘I loved him. Oh my God, how did that happen? I fell in love with him, and he’s so old.’
Jo and I swap stares.
‘How old?’ I say, picturing an octogenarian on his last legs.
‘He was like… forty-five, or something.’
‘Oh, ancient.’
She shoots upright. ‘Oh God. What if I lose my job?’
‘No-one will sack you because you’re upset, you muppet.’
‘No, it’s not that.’ She sniffs. ‘My affair was with Smithy.’
‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘Mr Smith. Ed.’ Mirelle looks at the floor.
I picture Smithy, finding it difficult to associate my middle-aged boss with what I’d imagined Mirelle’s lover to look like. I guess he isn’t a bad looking guy, just not in Mirelle’s league.
‘How did that happen?’ asks Jo, who is staring at Mirelle like a head teacher with a pupil.
‘I flirted with him when I heard our jobs were under threat. It went from there.’
‘Dear, God, do you mean Karen lost her job after working for that man all those years because, and no offence here Mirelle, but because he chose to save his lay?’ says Jo.
‘Probably,’ Mirelle whispers. ‘But he’s bound to get rid of me now so she’ll be able to come back.’
‘I’m sure that won’t happen,’ says Jo. ‘Anyway, this is you we’re talking about. Surely you have something blackmail-able up your sleeve.’
Journey to the Centre of Myself Page 11
