“I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that.” I splutter the words through my hands.
“I’ve heard worse suggestions.” He doesn’t sound offended. Or even particularly surprised. Maybe women proposition him all the time.
“But—it’s you. You.”
“Certainly is. Last time I looked.”
Why doesn’t he take this seriously? “I can’t sleep with you.”
“Okay.”
“No, I mean, I just can’t. However much I might want to. It wouldn’t be right.”
He leans back and reaches for my chin, tilting my faceup out of my hands. I’m still blushing, which seems to make him smile more. The dimples are very much in evidence now. At least one of us is enjoying this exchange.
“We’re both single. We can do what we want. Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Of course. Who wouldn’t?”
“Well, quite a few people, I suspect. But let’s not write a list.” He pauses, then, “Do you?”
Tears are prickling behind my eyelids. Any moment now I’ll be making as big a fool of myself as I did that first time he came round, blubbering all over him. I don’t answer. Can’t answer.
Not good enough, it seems. “Do you, Faith?”
“No. Yes.” I whisper the words.
His gorgeous brow furrows as he cocks his head to one side. “Which is it, Faith? Yes, or no?”
“I don’t know. I’m confused. In any case, it doesn’t matter what I want, or think I want. This wouldn’t be right. You and me.”
“Because of Ed?”
“Of course because of Ed. And Caroline.”
He holds my gaze for long moments before responding. “Carrie’s gone, and I’m sorry for that. I regret that she died so young, with most of her life ahead of her. She wouldn’t have spent that life with me though.” His expression is sad, I can see the sorrow etched there. But not grief. He’s not hurting, not like me. Not lonely, not needy as I am. His words baffle me.
“How can you know that?”
“I just do. We got on well, understood each other. We were sexually compatible and that was a bonus. I liked her, I respected her. I cared about her a lot. But I wasn’t in love with her.”
“She loved you.”
He shakes his head. “No, she didn’t. Ours wasn’t an exclusive relationship.”
Now it’s my turn to shake my head, in bewildermentand denial. “You don’t mean that. Are you saying you thought she slept with other men?”
“I know she did, when she wanted to. That was her choice. So did I. Not men, obviously…”
“But, you lived together.”
“We shared a house. She was my tenant. Paid rent, the lot. She had her own room, not that she usually slept in it when I was here. That arrangement suited both of us too.”
“You were her landlord? But I thought, I mean … how?”
“Okay, I can see this matters to you so I’ll explain. Carrie and I scened together quite regularly at a club I go to sometimes in Manchester. She was a submissive, I think you know that. Do you understand what that means?”
I nod, though in truth I only have a vague idea. “She liked being hurt. Whipped, that sort of thing.”
