‘You said you’d had sex three and a half times.’
‘Oh, yeah. That was the half.’
‘What about positions? What have you done?’
‘Just missionary.’
‘Blowjob?’
She shook her head.
‘Well, we can start off with this fundamental stuff, and later on, when you’ve got to grips with the basics, we can move on to more kinky things, like on your blog.’
‘You’ve been reading my blog?’ she asked, disconcerted.
‘Yeah, of course. I needed to get an idea of what we were working towards.’
‘Oh!’ It felt like he had been reading her diary, discovering her deepest, darkest secrets and fantasies – which was ridiculous, since the blog was public. But that was different. Luca knew her. He knew she had written that stuff, and she felt exposed.
‘Hey, don’t look so scared,’ he said, smiling. ‘I thought it was great. Some of that stuff was shit hot!’
‘But none of it’s real,’ she said.
‘I know that.’
Oh well, at least now he knew what a gulf there was between the person she wanted to be and the reality. ‘I know it’s a hell of a leap…’ she began, hoping he wouldn’t be scared off by the enormity of the task ahead of them.
‘I love that you have such a kinky imagination. It makes me think my job is going to be very easy.’
Claire was encouraged by that.
‘Okay, if that’s it, why don’t you unpack your bag and then we’ll finish getting dinner?’ he said. ‘I’ve cleared some space in the top drawer in my bedroom if you want to leave some stuff here. And I’ve emptied a shelf in the bathroom too.’
‘Thanks, Luca,’ she said, touched that he was going out of his way to make an awkward situation as easy as he could for her.
When she had unpacked her things, Claire joined Luca in the kitchen. He splashed wine into short tumblers and they drank while they worked. He sliced onions and mushrooms, while Claire crushed garlic and chopped chives to mix with the crème fraîche. Then she melted a thick slab of butter with olive oil, the steaks hissing as she slid them into the pan and the delicious aroma of searing meat filling the air. She was surprised by how relaxed she felt with Luca, chatting companionably in the kitchen as they cooked together. She had been increasingly nervous about tonight the closer it got, but now that she was here, she was fine – more than fine. She was enjoying herself.
When it was ready, they took their plates through to the living room and ate at the little folding table, their knees almost touching underneath it.
Luca cut into his steak enthusiastically. ‘This is fantastic!’ he said, raising his glass to her. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she said, clinking her glass against his.
‘I think you’re trying to feed me up,’ he said, with a smile.
She was enjoying it too. The steak was juicy and tender, the potatoes soft and fluffy, topped with fat dollops of the crème fraîche and chives.
Later they ate bowls of raspberries with thick cream, sitting on the sofa.
‘Are you trying to stupefy me with food and drink so I won’t be able to do anything?’ Luca asked her, his dark eyes twinkling.
‘No, of course not. I’m here to learn.’
‘Good,’ he said sternly. ‘Glad to hear it.’
He put his bowl on the coffee table, and Claire moved to pick it up, but he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back onto the sofa. ‘Leave it,’ he said softly, gazing at her intently now. His thumb stroked gently over her wrist. Then he kissed her, and his mouth tasted of wine and raspberries. ‘Let’s go to bed,’ he murmured, pulling back.
Claire glanced at her watch. ‘It’s only nine.’
