I shake my head and ask myself as much as him, ‘Why can’t I seem to say no to you?’
‘I’m not the kind of man who takes no for an answer. Especially not from you.’
But it’s not true. When I’ve refused him, he has accepted it. It just hasn’t stopped him from asking again.
He steps to one side, gesturing for me to move into the theatre, and rests his hand at the bottom of my back. A small move that makes me internally scream at all the sensitive sites in my body to back the hell down.
‘What are we going to see?’
‘The new Dame Judi Dench play.’
There’s a distinct air of cocky self-satisfaction about him but I’m too delighted to care. This is the escape I need.
An attendant leads us into the box Gregory has reserved. A bottle of Dom Perignon with two glasses and a selection of canapés are waiting for us on a low, dark wood table between two velvet chairs. I manage to catch a glimpse of the flavours written on small white place cards before the lights turn down.
The band strikes up and there’s rapturous applause when Dame Judi Dench, followed by Jude Law, enters the stage for the opening scene. My grin is so big, I feel like Julia Roberts. Gregory watches me as I clap loudly from the edge of my seat.
Leaning in to his ear, I whisper, ‘This is amazing, thank you so much.’
He snaps his head round to face me, his lips almost brushing against mine, his minty breath drifting into my mouth. My stomach leaps. I want him to do this. He lifts my chin with his index finger and my lips open wider, my tongue braced, ready for his taste. Something about the dark room full of people increases my need for the forbidden touch. His thumb trails my lips, then he audibly swallows any desire he might have had and hands me a glass of champagne. He clinks my glass with his and turns to the stage, leaving me feeling utterly confused, disoriented and desperate.
Have I imagined everything?
‘I can’t believe you remembered,’ I say as the applause for the end of the first act dies down.
‘I think I remember everything you say to me and the exact manner in which you say it. Some of it I wish I didn’t remember.’
‘Why?’
He turns in his seat and leans forwards across his parted knees towards me. ‘Because your body’s reactions to me tell me one thing but your words tell me something else. It’s… perplexing.’
I almost laugh at the thought that he can’t see right through me. He crosses one leg over the other and leans back in his seat, clasping his hands and raising his index fingers to his lips, studying me in an almost mocking fashion.
Those fingers. Those lips.
The walls of my sex clench and I’m both grateful for and pissed off by the attendant who steps between us to top up our champagne and take away our empty plates. I cross my legs, locking my thighs tightly, wishing I could read his mind.
We sit in this standoff, for my part charged and bewildered, until the attendant returns with replenished canapés.
‘So that we’re clear, I’m thinking that I’m hungry, so I’m going to take a canapé.’ I reach for a strawberry, dipping it in the ramekin of melted dark chocolate. He watches me as I sit back and re-cross my legs. I don’t know what’s coming down the river but my chips are in. I run my tongue slowly up the side of the strawberry, swirling around the tip, savouring the chocolate sauce, and revel in the subtle loosening of his jaw and the darkening of his irises.
I wrap my lips around the head of the berry and slide my teeth through the moist flesh. Before the second half reaches my lips, he leans forwards, clasping his hand around mine. He sees my chips. Then he raises me, placing his mouth over the berry and closing his mouth around my fingertips. I watch as he slides his lips to the end of my fingers, sucking the tips, turning his tongue the way he might lick my clit.
I fold.
The lights dim for the start of act two. Gregory once again flashes a knowing smirk and turns towards the stage.
My body is left pulsing in places I didn’t think it could pulse in public.
Jackson is waiting outside for us at the end of the show. Gregory walks around the car as he usually does and Jackson opens the door to the back seat for me.
‘How was the show?’ Jackson asks.
‘The first act was fantastic,’ I say.
‘And the second?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
