Otter laughed. “Mister Precise. Okay, I’ll not argue. Do you model as well?”
“Yes. But…”
“No buts. I know who you are, Ryan O’Connell, Manchester Athletic striker and record signing.” She punched a fist into the air, her tits bouncing even more.
“You took a screen shot and reverse imaged searched it, didn’t you?” You couldn’t kid a kidder, or rather, you couldn’t kid someone who knew technology.
“I did indeed.” She laughed, a sound I knew I was starting to like too much. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I took a big lungful of air. “Because it’s just a job, but women fawn over it and I’m not into that. You didn’t recognise me – it was good to just be me.”
“Samesies.” Her smile was sweet this time. “Shall we go back to being Clark and Lois?”
I did have some questions, but they could wait. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll just Google you to find out what I want to know.” Now her smile was wicked.
I could make a book of all her different smiles.
“Don’t. I don’t tell the media much, so they tend to make up what they can’t find.” I didn’t Google myself, because that would be weird, but Nate and Rowan enjoyed telling me what I’d been doing, or rather who I’d been doing.
“I’m pretty much the same. Only in my line of work, we perpetuate some of the rumours. Good publicity.” This time her smile was wry.
“So I shouldn’t Google you?” I wasn’t sure I was going to anyway.
“If you want. Just don’t believe everything you read. But I’m single – you would read different articles linking me to different people, and I’m not pregnant, never mind the photos that get taken after I’ve eaten and are then speculated upon.”
“I’ll keep those things in mind.”
“How about we both think of five questions to ask each other next time we speak or see each other. Five things we really want to know.” She lifted her arms and pulled her hair back, making my gaze go again to her tits.
Her smile told me she’d noticed where I was looking.
“You seem to like the number five.”
“It’s a good number. Five questions. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
I watched the screen, eyes unable to move elsewhere as she dropped her arms and then pulled up her vest, over her head, exposing her breasts.
“You kept looking at them, so I thought I’d give you a proper view.” Her nipples had hardened.
The only thing wrong with this picture was that I wasn’t there.
CHAPTER8
Otter
Quite obviously,my common sense had gone out of the window.
All it would take was for Ryan to hit record and he could sell this to the highest bidder. Only given what I’d managed to read about him while I grilled him with my five questions, he didn’t need the money. He absolutely didn’t need the money.
I knew better than most how the media exaggerated, but I could work out rough facts for myself – it was how I’d survived in this industry so far. Ryan was wadded. His footballer’s salary, plus his endorsements and signing-on deal from Manchester Athletic could’ve set up my own production company.
He was also Mr Secretive. The media knew nothing about him, apart from his age, the names of his parents and the sort of stuff that was common factual knowledge, like which school he went to.
Hence I had no concerns about giving him an eyeful of my tits through the power of the internet.
