‘Yeah, dinner.’ I lift my head as I answer, simultaneously fastening my shoe to my foot.
‘From the club? The same man?’ Not wanting a discussion, I give a noncommittal shrug. Not that it matters; Flo doesn’t see it as she has her head on the floor and her butt in the air. I’m sure she’d said before this position was called the downward dog. To me, it looks like it should’ve been calledcome hump my ass.
‘You’re like a foster fail.’
‘I’m a what?’ I ask, not really caring as I concentrate on my tiny shoe strap.
‘It’s like this,’ she says, now sitting cross-legged. ‘When people take care of abandoned kittens and end up keeping them. That’s called a foster fail.’
‘Who do you know that fosters kittens? I’m sure you know girls who’d skin them and wear their fur,’ I tease. I couldn’t swear to it, but I’ve met some of her set. The Tabithas and Savannahs who smoke like chimneys and are as thin as rails. ‘But open their homes to them?’
‘I read it in a magazine article at my gynaecologist’s office.’ She waves an inconsequential hand. ‘The point I’m trying to make is, a foster fail is someone who keeps the creature rather than let it go to a new home.’
I glance at my watch. ‘I still don’t get your point.’
‘You’re a one-night stand fail. You were supposed to have shagged him and moved on. Set him free to fill holes elsewhere,’ she says, throwing her arms wide.
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ I reply, picking up my purse.
‘That club has a sinister side, you know.’ In a change of tone, Flo eyes me gravely.
‘What does that matter?’ I reply. ‘Pretty sure they don’t serve dinner there.’
‘No,’ Flo says, raising her head. ‘They serve you your arse.’
As I close the front door behind me, I decide Flo can be so cryptic at times.
Chapter Eleven
DAN
At ten past seven, Louise saunters into the restaurant; her heels the cause of her swaying gait, and the saunter its hypnotizing effect. High, high heels and swaying arse and hips. Peach cheeks and pink lipstick. She looks like a dream.
I stand as she pauses by the hostess, my expression calm.
‘You kept me waiting.’ My words are a whisper as I hold her to my chest. A moment later, I relinquish her to her chair.
‘Only ten minutes,’ she says, fussing with her bag. She doesn’t return my gaze.
I thread my fingers through hers to focus her attention. ‘Try all week. You didn’t return my call. You think I might be used to it by now, but I’m not. I don’t appreciate it.’ I’d fretted. Wanted to call—caving only earlier today. I’d also considered she might need a break to think about things.
‘I-I didn’t know whether I’d come,’ she stammers.
‘Liar,’ I purr in response, suggesting all sorts of things, though mainly that I’m pleased she’s here. Our fingers entwined, I bring the tips to my mouth for a kiss. ‘You’re only kidding yourself,’ I add. And torturing me.
As she shrugs lightly, I make her a small promise. ‘I’ll go easy on you,’ I murmur, my voice low in register. ‘While we’re in public, at least.’
Her tongue darts out to wet her lip, heat crawling across her cheeks.
‘Who says I want you to?’ Her tone is blithe, even as she begins fiddling with her napkin.
‘Wanting and receiving. One doesn’t necessarily follow the other, but I think you know that.’
‘You mean you can’t always get what you want?’’ She almost sings her response. Can a person sing and snigger at the same time?
I school my expression as the waiter approaches our table with the drinks menu in hand.
‘The lady would like wet pussy,’ I tell him, deadpan, and ignoring Louise’s dumbstruck expression, I carry on. ‘It’s not on the cocktail menu, but if the barman would like an introduction, do let me know.’ I add an imported beer to the order, while also requesting the wine menu. And I do it all without acknowledging Louise.
