“I think that would be a gynecologist.”
“I’ve got one of those too. But there’s more than one way it should be taken care of, right?”
I chuckle.
“Makes me think, though,” she says, turning to the window and the gray-blue view over the city.Winter daylight hours are short.“Another couple of years in this place, and I’ll be able to get me one of those on retainer.”
“One of what?” My question stutters out in another chuckle.
“A professional.” She gives a wiggle of her brows.Her aesthetician must be great.“Sounds pretty perfect to me. None of the complications and all of the orgasms.”
Until you can’t stop thinking about him. Which leaves you with more complications. But also, more orgasms. Self-administered.
Time to move the conversation on.
“Do you think the men who build these glass-and-metal towers realize they all look like penises?”
“Ryan, men are almost always thinking about their dicks without even realizing it.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“They have two heads, but they can only use one at a time. I think it must be like being tied to the village idiot sometimes.”
“It would answer a lot of questions, I guess.”
“Everywhere you look in London, from Nelson’s Column to the Shard, there are dicks as far as the eye can see.”
“The Shard would be a very unfortunate penis,” I say. “Kind of stabby, all that unbalanced girth and pointy end.”
“We need more female architect leads, because it’s only going to get worse. I mean”—she moves closer as though ready to divulge a secret—“there’s a building currently going through planning called Undershaft.Undershaft.Can you believe that? Wasn’t there a consultation over the name?”
“That’s kind of . . . special.”
“If there was a consultation, you can bet your sweet arse it didn’t include women. Or not enough of them. Of course, you know what’s under the shaft, don’t you? Balls,” she adds with a decisive nod.
“Oh, my Lord.” This is a conversation and a half!
“And you didn’t hear it from me, but Maven Inc. has its sticky fingers in another project I heard they’ve internally christened the Dildo.”
“Internally?Really,Martine?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“You’ve got to be making that up.”
“Sadly, I’m not that creative. Or else I wouldn’t be working in finance.” A pause. “Did you get up to anything interesting on the weekend?”
“Yeah, I forgot to tell you. I signed the lease on my new apartment—no more serviced accommodation for me!” It’s been a bonus, but there’s nothing quite like having your own space.
“Well, that’s wonderful!”
“I get the keys this week.”
“Congratulations. Sounds like you’re about to become a real Londoner.”
“High praise,” I say with a laugh, lifting my coffee to my lips again.
“Praise is my love language.” She gently jostles my shoulder with hers. “Well, that and blow jobs.”
