She swallowed hard, running her sweaty palms along her legs. ‘It’s hard to— I’m not sure where to start,’ she stammered. ‘I wanted to ask you to do me a favour— well, not exactly a favour because I would pay you,’ she amended hastily. He just stood there, looking at her, and she felt very flustered.
‘So what’s the favour?’ he asked.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘Well, remember that night when you were at my house and you, um, you… you said you were singing for your supper…’ She felt her face burning and kept her eyes trained on her hands, unable to look at him.
‘Yeah, and I’m really sorry about that. It was a stupid, crass thing to say. But I thought we’d got past it. I thought you’d forgiven me.’
‘Oh, I have.’ She looked up at him. ‘It’s just… I was wondering if I could, um, change my mind.’
‘Change your mind?’ He frowned. Then his eyes widened. ‘Oh.’
‘I don’t mean in exchange for staying that night,’ she rushed on. ‘I’d pay you.’
He sat down beside her on the couch and she felt his warm hand cover her fidgeting fingers. ‘Calm down,’ he said.
‘Sorry, it was a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have— I should go.’ She moved to stand up, but he stopped her with a firm grasp on her hand.
‘Let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘You want to pay me to have sex with you?’
She forced herself to look him in the eye. ‘Yes,’ shesaid, relieved that he understood and the worst part was over.
‘I’d fuck you for free, in case I didn’t make that clear the other night.’
She blushed. ‘But that wasn’t for free, was it? You were “singing for your supper”.’
‘Look, I was talking shite. I thought that was what you wanted. But, despite the impression I may have given, I’m not in the habit of trading sex.’
She sighed. ‘No, of course not. Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.’
‘It’s okay. So, what do you say?’ He jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom. ‘On the house.’
She gulped. Damn, he hadn’t understood at all. ‘Um, no, that’s not what I meant. I don’t just want you to fu— I mean, I don’t want to just have a one-night stand. I want you to teach me stuff.’
‘Stuff?’ He narrowed his eyes.
‘Sex stuff. It’s kind of a long story.’
‘I’ve got plenty of time.’
‘Do you think I could have that drink after all?’
‘Beer okay?’
‘Fine.’
He disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two bottles of Corona and handed her one. It was ice-cold and wet with condensation.
‘Cheers!’ He clicked his bottle against hers and sat beside her on the sofa. ‘So – what’s the long story?’
Claire took a sip of beer, trying to decide how to start. ‘I write this blog,’ she said. ‘It’s a sex blog.’
‘A sex blog?’ Luca raised his eyebrows.
‘Yes. I write about my, um… experiences – the men I go out with, the things we do. It’s quite raunchy.’
‘Good for you!’
‘I’ve been writing it for a couple of years now, and it’s very popular. I have over 20,000 hits each month, and I’m the number-one sex blogger in the search engines.’ God, she was babbling. Why was she telling him her stats? ‘Anyway, the point is I’ve written about a lot of different experiences, a lot of different men. It’s very explicit.’
